Redeemed One Trilogy: The Elven Huntress
by Elluviel
Summary: Shortly after a charming stranger who hails from Mordor arrives in the Woodland Realm, Etrielle, close friend of the late Queen Serilna, goes missing. Legolas attempts to unravel the mysteries and legends surrounding the stranger, in the hopes of finding Etrielle before it is too late.
1. Chapter 1: The Discovery

**Greetings, fair reader!**

 **This is the first story of The Redeemed One Trilogy involving Gilrael, and lays out part of her past, though more of it will be revealed throughout the series. The Elvish is from grey-company (.org) and arwen-undomiel (.org) though some words are unclear and I tweak em a bit.**

 **I try to post a new chapter every other day, though sometimes I get caught up in a hurricane of activities, but please come back to continue the tale!**

 **All reviews, comments, and opinions are warmly welcomed, and guide me along the path of becoming a better writer, and encourages me to write more. So don't be shy! :)**

 **I hope you enjoy this story, hopefully the first of many more to come!**

 **Until next time,**

 **Elluviel**

 **(Rated T because I rather be extra safe then a little bit sorry.)**

* * *

 _About T.A 1,300 ..._

King Thranduil glanced up from his writings as his messenger, Firlowen, ran up to the throne. "Hir nin!"

"What is it?" the king snapped. "It had better be important. I ordered -"

"Legolas is gone," Firlowen miserably announced.

Thranduil bolted upright, scattering his papers down the steps. "Again?"

Firlowen nodded.

"How long has he been gone?"

"We do not know, my lord. Earliest he could have possibly left was after the feast last night."

Thranduil jumped down the steps, and whirled to face Firlowen. "How did you know this?"

The messenger shrugged. "Your son had the decency to leave a note."

"GIVE IT TO ME!" Firlowen quickly thrust out the letter, and Thranduil scanned it quickly.

" _ **Found strange tracks in woods this morning. Going under cover of night to investigate. May not be back for a while, but do not worry. If you want me to return, do not send guards after me. They would scare off the creature.**_

 _ **Legolas.**_ _ **"**_

Thranduil waved it in the air before Firlowen. "Do you know what this means?"

"No, but it is clear - "

"Legolas never writes in incomplete sentences with such vague details as 'strange'! Does this not strike you as odd?"

Firlowen pointed out, "You are not very close to your son."

Thranduil glared at him. "In any case, it is clear this is a dangerous mission. Why else would he travel at night?"

"Secrecy?"

"My point exactly! We must send out guards and retrieve him." Firlowen sighed. When the king was in an agitated mood, one had to be very careful with their words.

The messenger leaned against a column and crossed his arms. "With all due respect, my lord, Legolas is not an elfling. He does not need to be 'retrieved'. Do you not know he is the best archer and tracker in the Woodland Realm?"

Thranduil flashed him an angered glare. "As a matter of fact, I do know that about _my own son_! Get Arkanil to gather -"

"My lord! Legolas wrote _explicitly_ for you not to send soldiers after him. You know he is serious to say he would not return if you do, because besides being an excellent hunter and tracker, he is also exceptionally talented at hiding."

Thranduil walked slowly up the steps to his throne, and slumped down. "I cannot believe I am obeying my own son," he muttered. Then he waved a hand to the gathered band of elves. "Leave it for now. But if he does not return in three days – which is plenty – I will send them off. Satisfied, Firlowen?"

"To the utmost, my lord." Firlowen bowed, and hurried off.

* * *

The wind rustled through the autumn leaves. A beam of golden light shone in a single ray onto the forest floor. A squirrel scampered up a trunk. A single maple leaf flush with red and orange dropped, floating gently down as the breeze carried it to land on a thick log. A lone figure crouched in the shadows, aware of every sound however mingled, every motion however concealed. Crunch. Clang. Crunch. Clang. The steady, rhythmic march was noted and memorized, the strange Orc/Man tracks duly observed. It was only a matter of time when the creature would be in clear sight and shooting range of Legolas Thrandulion, Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, a devoted hunter who never tired of his prey, never ceased to track it down, until he had fulfilled his goal.

His keen blue eyes darted through the trees as sudden rustles in the bushes ahead of him competed for his attention. Silently, he pulled in arrow from his quiver, nocked it with precise gentleness, and pulled it back in a slow, smooth motion. The rustles grew louder, violent even, and Legolas tensed his muscles, ready to fling the arrow or leap out of his hiding spot, whichever would be necessary.

A fox leaped out, and Legolas relaxed his arrow, feeling a bit foolish. But he frowned when he saw this was no ordinary fox. It was a black one, with ashy streaks of grey lining its bushy tail.

He strained his eyes and ears, hoping to catch a glimpse of something else. Then he heard it. Soft, stealthy steps, inaudible to anyone but a trained hunter of the Eldar. A gentle _swish!_ as well, which spoke of a long cloak. And finally, a smooth scraping, a sword being urged out of its sheath. No, wait, _two_ swords.

Legolas drew his hood over his head, and tightened his grip. Just when he could see a shadowed outline of a thin figure, he released his arrow, and all Mordor broke loose.

The arrow bounced harmlessly off the hooded man's cloak, but before he had time to notice that, the man leapt forward, brandishing two long swords, gleaming wickedly in the afternoon sunlight. Legolas twirled around, and swung his bow to the man's legs, hoping to trip him. The man simply jumped and slashed forward. Legolas ducked, rolled, and as he whirled around, twirled out his sword, and kicked one of his opponent's swords out of his hand.

He snarled, but instantly quieted as Legolas thrust forward. The Sinda slashed and jabbed and blocked, all the while advancing closer, and increasing the speed and force. He found the man was exceptionally skilled, and would have been an even match had he not been covered in sticky spider webs, and dried blood. In due time, he locked his silvery sword behind the black one, twisted his wrist, and caught the black sword as it fell. Instantly his hand burned, and he threw it behind him as hard as he could.

Shaking the stinging hand, he thrust the point of his sword to the stranger, who had fallen to the ground and landed on… _her_ back.

Her hood had fallen off, so Legolas could see her stained, dirty, yet beautiful face clearly, and was surprised to find she must have been a she-elf, captured by Orcs long ago. She was about his age, but must have been about a decade younger, though it was hard to tell with Elves. Her ears were pointed, her hair was long and straight, and her body was tall and slender. She wore a long, dark cloak hemmed with red that flickered and seemed to be made of shadows. She wore a shining metal clasp on the cloak, and a silver and ruby ring. Her armor was black and dark grey, so she could easily hide at night. But what sickened Legolas were her dark, brown eyes, hardened with distrust and hatred, but currently on fire with anger and doubt.

However, her being an Eldar changed things. He slowly lowered his sword, and gently said, "Av' osto." She seemed not to comprehend. So Legolas tried again in Westron. "Do not fear."

She recoiled, frowning, but answered in the same language. "Give me one solid reason why I should believe that."

He was surprised to find she spoke articulately and intelligently, a skill Orcs could never hope to have, and one which was rare in Men. So, he decided that she was not entirely a monster.

Slowly, Legolas crouched down and laid his sword on the leaf-stricken ground between them. Then he extended a hand to help her up, which she refused, but as she warily stood, now covered with leaves in addition to spider webs, she looked impressed.

When he drew back his hood to show he trusted her, she took a step back in awe, and stared at him as if she had never seen an Elf, or her reflection, before. Legolas smiled, and she narrowed her eyes and glared at him. "You may think you have an advantage, Elf, but I am not weaponless."

Legolas cheerfully announced, "Neither am I."

She raised an eyebrow. "Show me."

"I will, and gladly, if you show me yours." She leaned back, seeming to weigh her options, and in a violent yet smooth move, whipped out two jagged daggers from the inside of her cloak, poised elegantly in front of Legolas' neck. He smiled at the triumphant look in her eyes, and in one fluid twirl, grabbed his two hunting knives from their sheaths on his quiver and thrust his foot around hers, causing her to fall onto her back and loosen her grip on her daggers.

But all the while, he was gentle and restrained, as if playing. She seemed to notice, and snarled at him. "Who do you think I am, a woman to be treated like a maiden with no skill?" Legolas could not stifle a cheery laugh, something he rarely had a problem with. But then again, he had never met someone like this stranger who seemed, in his mind, to connect with him immediately. A sudden desire to befriend her, learn her history, gripped him.

The laugh, in any case, startled her, as did his easy-going release of her, the casual re-sheath of his knives and the glimmer in his starry eyes as he bent to retrieve his sword. She backed up, and when he was finished, stood.

Then her deep brown eyes widened like a doe's as Legolas handed her the two daggers, and then presented her swords. She took all of them slowly, processing his behavior in an attempt to decide whether he was mocking her or being truly gallant. To Legolas' relief, she decided on the latter, and stuttered something in appreciation.

The prince nodded graciously, and then leaned against a trunk, picking up his arrow and twirling it in his hand as he watched her.

Her face was now flushed, and she appeared angry at herself for feeling embarrassed. But in a short while, she stammered a string of words. "I ... lost…need…help."

Legolas hid a grin and pretended not to hear. Finally, she marched resolutely up to him, and clearly announced, "I am lost in this forest, and I would appre-"

"Your wish is my command, lady."

She glared at him. "I am under the impression you understood me from the start."

Legolas flashed a grin and shrugged. "You will have to wonder that for the rest of your days."

He whistled, and after a moment, his horse trotted into view. Legolas gestured for her to mount first. She hesitated, then looked him up and down. Slowly, it began to dawn on her, and she took a step back, hand on the hilt of her sword.

"Who exactly are you?"

Legolas assumed a solemn look, washed of all emotion. The one he usually wore. "Guess. My time is at your disposal."

She sniffed disdainfully. "Legolas. Prince of the Greenwood. I should have known."

Known or not, Legolas was surprised. Not many who lived outside the three elven realms knew this, and even among the Elves, the kingdom of Eryn Lasgalen was barely known.

Then she narrowed her eyes. "You seem eager enough to help me, though surely I am a stranger to you. Do you know me?"

"No," Legolas said quickly. "But I would like to."

She stared at him, and he cracked a smile. "What is your name?"

She crossed her arms. "Gilith."

 _Starlight,_ Legolas thought. _In Sindarin._ There was no way the Orcs let her keep her original name, so this one was most likely false.

However, he kept quiet about that. "Do you or do you not trust me to help you?"

Her attitude, once arrogant and demeaning, seemed to have changed in an instant. "I trust you, my lord. Thank you." This time, she accepted his hand and swung onto the horse, giving a shy smile. Legolas nearly sighed with relief, but as he mounted in front of her, something stirred in his mind. He glanced back, but nothing was amiss with so-called Gilith. He pursed his lips, being unable to shake the feeling that something about her was familiar. Very familiar.

He leaned down and whispered, "Noro lim, Brindal." Instantly Gilith clutched his waist as the horse executed a flying leap over the bushes, as if she understood the Sindarin perfectly.

Though he had always been exceptionally skilled at making female elves, elleths, trust him quickly enough to pour out their souls to him, and had mainly succeeded with this foreign one, he had a sense that she was hiding something from him. Something major. Something to do with the black fox that preceded her, and her unique jeweled ring.


	2. Chapter 2: Arguments and Rejection

On the long ride from the southern borders of the Greenwood up north to the Woodland Realm, the two elves spoke very little. Legolas was eloquent when he talked, but tended to open his mouth for little more than to take a sip of water. Gilith, as far as he had so far observed, was likewise eloquent and mainly silent, but she murmured to herself often in the language of the south, the Black Speech of Mordor. Few elves bothered to learn that foul language, and the ones who did knew little. Yet Gilith spoke as if it was her native tongue. This told Legolas she had been in captivity for a very long time, but somehow, he knew, she was still fluent in Sindarin, the common language of the Eldar.

The ride back was faster than the one before, since Legolas did not have to scan the ground to see where the tracks continued. Still, it was nearing evening on the third day since his departure when they finally clopped across the bridge to the palace gates. The riders dismounted, and as a guard secured his horse, Legolas' ears caught the light scamper of feet. He glanced behind him, and was surprised to see the black, ashy tailed fox, staring at him from behind the bushes. The guard, however, spoke to him before he could observe the strange fox longer, and by the time he looked again, it was gone.

"Hir nin, Legolas! It is about time you have returned. Your father had the mind to send off a search party this morning, but thankfully Arkanil and Firlowen convinced him to wait until nightfall."

He seemed to notice Gilith for the first time. "Who is this young lady? She looks like a mess." She fired a withering glare at the guard, and Legolas waved a hand.

"If it matters, Magor, you will know soon enough. Hannon le."

The guard bowed. "My pleasure, hir nin." He then hurried off with the horse, and Legolas whirled around to Gilith.

"You understand Sindarin!"

She blinked. "I…do?"

Legolas leaned back. "Do not pretend. You understood Magor, the guard, perfectly well. Enough, in fact, to be offended."

Gilith glared at him. "Well, fine, I do," she defiantly conceded in Sindarin. "And I also speak it. So? Is it a crime?"

Legolas glared at her, and she literally took a surprised step back. "It is illegal to mislead a fellow Elf. Misleading is another word for deceiving which is another word for lying, which is not going to be tolerated in this kingdom. Understood?"

To his surprise, she immediately straightened and bowed her head, almost as if it was a reflex. Then she narrowed her eyes. "If I choose to stay."

Legolas sighed. "Oh, you will. Where else will you go?"

"I would face my chances - "

"Good try. Come, and you will understand."

He glided through the gates, Gilith following cautiously. Inside, as the gates silently sealed them in, she jumped, startled. But then she turned around, and gasped.

The huge cavern inside the mountain was lit with torches and candles. Beams of light pierced through, illuminating the grand platform in the center. Bridges of wood and steps of stone connected magnificent columns and detailed arches which supported the whole thing, and waterfalls floated gently into streams far below. Elven music floated through the air, giving it a soothing atmosphere.

Gilith hugged her cloak to her body, her eyes suddenly afraid. Legolas glanced to the side, wondering what was wrong. Then he remembered. The Silvan elves of the Greenwood, as they were usually called, were widely known, where they _were_ known, as less wise than the Imladris elves and far more dangerous. Generally, Legolas agreed with that, mainly because his father was the one in charge. Not very wise, very dangerous. Especially when he was in a sour mood. And he was in a sour mood often.

Legolas took her hand, and gazed warmly into her eyes. "There is nothing to fear here, as long as you behave honorably. Come, I will show you a room where a bath will be drawn and you can clean up."

Gilith stared at him warily. "Why?"

"To meet my father. The king."

Gilith snatched her hands from his, and haughtily announced, "I do not want to meet the king. I happen to hate him." _So do I,_ Legolas thought. But he couldn't say that to a person he barely knew.

"Well, this is his kingdom, so it would be wise to meet him and gain his favor."

She rolled her eyes, to the astonishment of Legolas. "Oh? And what do you know of wisdom?"

Legolas was angry. His patience, though vast, had worn out with this newly released captive. "More than you, I am sure. Now, do you want a place to stay or not? Because you are not going to get much better around here."

Gilith tilted her head. "Isn't there a town on a lake east of here? Laketown?"

Legolas snorted. "You are not going to get there without a boat, genius, because it is on a _lake_. Hence the name Laketown." Maybe it was wrong, but he hadn't had this much fun arguing since he last saw his friends Elladan and Elrohir, sons of Elrond, Lord of Imladris.

Gilith glared at him. "Oh, so now you're being sarcastic? I will not live in a kingdom where its own prince treats me like this. I can't imagine the father."

Legolas pursed his lips, faking worry. "Ooh, the father. I pity his poor son!"

Gilith huffed, and turned to leave, but stopped suddenly, remembering the shut gates. She whirled back, and yelled, "Get me out of here!"

Legolas smirked. "Figure it out yourself."

She crossed her arms. "Are you going to capture me? Is this a prison?"

Legolas sighed. "No, unfortunately." He perked up. "But we _do_ have a dungeon. Would you like to see those?"

Gilith glared at him. "Funny. Now are you going to let me go or not?"

Legolas shouted, "Edro i annon!" Swiftly, the gates opened. Gilith marched out onto the bridge, but turned hesitatingly back to Legolas, who stood inside watching with his arms crossed and face stoic.

"Well, there you go. What are you waiting for, an invitation? Because in that case, I invite you to go wherever you most feel comfortable and where you think will be safest."

Gilith looked, her face stricken, but she glanced up at him and, with her voice cracking, managed, "Thank you." Then she turned and sprinted into the night, and disappeared in the shadows of the forest.

But not before Magor noticed as he returned. Frowning, he pointed after her. "Hir nin! You let a lady into the forest at night? Did she run away? Would you like me to get her?"

Legolas waved a hand. "Do not bother, Magor."

"But it is against my-"

Legolas shrugged. "She will be back by morning."

Magor frowned, uncertain. "How do you know?"

Legolas grinned at him slyly. "I will tell you when she returns, so you will have no doubt. When she comes, let her in, and send for me. Understand?"

Magor bowed. "Yes, my lord. And you may want to check in with your father."

Legolas sighed, and turned back inside, muttering, "Did you have to remind me?"


	3. Chapter 3: The Return - Maybe

"…and to think you returned with nothing! What _were_ you thinking, Legolas?" The prince leaned against a column, arms crossed, and focusing all his energies on not yawning during his father's lengthy lecture. "Answer me!"

But now he glared at him. "Maybe I shouldn't have returned."

"Legolas! You know I only do this for your own safety!"

Legolas shut his eyes to keep from rolling them. "Then you know I am perfectly safe in the forest. There are only spiders, Ada, and I have been trained to fight them all my life." Calling his father 'Ada' softened him, and Legolas knew it.

Thranduil leaned back in his throne. "Oh, very well. But in the future, you will tell me before you leave."

"I _did_ tell you."

"In person, and with my permission! Understood?" he thundered.

Legolas sighed. "Yes, Ada."

Thranduil slipped off the throne and marched down the steps into the distance, scowling the whole way. Only when he was out of sight did Legolas add, "Maybe."

* * *

Groaning and creaking. Shadows dancing hauntingly across the sticky webbed trees. Scampering of little feet, a swish in the treetops, a scuttle. And the forest so dark nothing but her glowing red ring was visible. What was she thinking? She'd get lost if she continued any longer, and eaten by who-knew-what. Maybe, if it were evil, she could tame it, but this was an elven land. Such creatures wouldn't dare come so close to the front gates. But she did. Perhaps that was why she was so frightened, because nothing frightened her. Not anymore. Only _Him_.

Now, why was she so arrogant, so stupid? That elf, the prince, was just about the nicest person she had ever met. Yet she refused his offer, rejected him, insulted him, and caused him to lose his patience with her. She deserved it.

But what was she going to do now? He was right; there was no way she was going to make it out of this forest, much less Laketown. There was only one option, and she had to force down her pride. But it would be worth it, to gain the respect of the prince. By Eru, he was so gorgeous and sweet. Unfortunately, his loyalties remained with the wrong people. An image of him flashed in her mind, and she had decided what she would do. Fulfill her mission to her master. The one she feared.

* * *

Legolas paced his bedroom, and probably wore the floor thin. With his keen eyes, he glanced out the window and judged from the faint light of the crescent moon far up in the heavens, it was well past midnight. He had guessed Gilith would be back by now, but obviously he had misjudged her. Surely, she was heading back. What could have stopped her? Spiders? No, she was too skilled to be hindered long. Ah, it must be the forest itself. One could easily get lost in there, especially at night, with this sliver of moon.

Then he paused. Should he go find her? He could be out and back well before dawn. But then he smirked. No way he was going to fetch _that_ elleth after the way she treated him. Still, something about her, besides something familiar about her, made him uneasy. Something on their journey back, that was at the edge of his mind. He went back through his mind every step of the journey, and finally remembered glancing back every few minutes at a sudden movement in the bushes behind, as if a small creature was following.

Legolas halted. The black fox. He was sure of it. It was following them the whole way, and originally, it had preceded Gilith herself. They _had_ to be related. It had to be a fox from Mordor, though Legolas had never known such 'tame' creatures lived there.

Before he could think further, a gentle knock sounded at his door. He threw it open, but nodded primly. "Ah, Rychell. Gilith?"

The guard nodded. "At the southern gates, my lord. Magor told me you requested to be alerted should she return?"

"Correct."

"Very well. He is waiting with her. Come, she seemed impatient to see you."

Legolas wondered about that. Something foul was certainly going on with her and her fox. She seemed, according to that ring, to be a high rank among Mordor officials. Could she be a spy? But she had been so reluctant to accept his offer. Until, that is, she realized he was the prince…

At the gates, Gilith oozed her apologies of how she had been so disrespectful, foolish, could he ever forgive her, blah blah, even to the point of kneeling, and grasping his hand and begging him, while looking up with a tear stained face. The guards nearby stifled laughs.

Legolas stared at her. There was no way this was genuine. She had to be acting. But he had to admit, she was good. Finally, he managed, "All is forgiven and in the past. Yes, the offer still holds. Please stand up."

She did, and quickly. All her 'emotion' disappeared. "Will I still have to meet your father?"

Legolas shot her a look. "Yes, and you better behave. In the morning, though. He would not appreciate a late-night visit."

"Early morning," Gilith corrected instantly.

Legolas blinked, bewildered. "Excuse me?"

She dipped her head. "Nothing. Oh, I lost my horn in the forest."

Legolas waved a hand. "We have plenty you can have."

She glared at him, and planted her hands on her hips. "I. Want. _My_. Horn." The guards stared. No one _ever_ talked back to the prince that way.

Legolas shot her a firm look. "You are not to speak to _anyone_ that way, understand?"

Once again, she bowed submissively, against her will. Then she looked surprised. "Why?"

Legolas stared at her. "It is immature and exactly what a spoiled child would say."

She seemed to understand immediately. "May I please search in the forest tomorrow for my hunting horn, my lord?" She appeared hopeful, looking for his approval.

He only gave her a good-natured look in return. "That is better. As a matter of fact, I will send someone to look for it."

Gilith's eyes brightened. "Really? Thank you!" She sprung forward and wrapped her arms around the startled prince, who patted her back awkwardly. Then he sent her off with a promise he would check on her when she finished washing and with a trusted maid, Etrielle, the only one he would send an elf like Gilith with. She had served his own deceased mother, and had provided him more solace than his father could ever hope to provide.

The guards were all smiles, and Rychell nodded approvingly. "You would make a wonderful parent."

Legolas glared at him. "I know my father is pushing me to marry, but I will never-"

"Never say never, my lord," Rychell chastised. "I thought the same before I met Iriador."

Legolas could only reply, "Good for you."

Magor grinned. "How did you know she would return?"

Legolas glanced at him. "I know that forest at night, and I know elleths. It was only a matter of time."

The guards burst into laughter, Rychell the loudest. "You may never marry, Legolas, but there are plenty of maidens who want you to."

Magor smiled. "At least you've learned from your forced time around them."

Legolas glared at him, and shook his head. "I learned more from Gilrael in twenty years than all of them combined in a millennia." The mention of Gilrael, the lost Duchess of the Greenwood and Lady of Lothlorien, instantly quieted the guards. She had disappeared over a thousand years ago, and was believed to be dead, along with her parents, close friends of Thranduil's, in an Orc attack while visiting Lorien. Before that fateful trip, Gilrael had been Legolas' best friend for her entire twentyish years of life.

Magor solemnly pointed inside. "You better go inside, my lord."

Legolas sighed. "Losto vae, you all. Please do not tell my father anything." They all chorused a promise.

* * *

Legolas walked down the hallway where his father's chambers were on the end, and his were on the front. He had ordered a room across from his for Gilith.

Etrielle hurried out of her door, but laid a hand on Legolas' wrist. "Legolas, I have something important to tell you."

He stared ahead. "Is she done?"

Etrielle nodded. "Yes, but listen!" She had to stand on her toes to even attempt to look him in the eyes.

He looked down. "You have my whole attention, Etrielle."

She took a deep breath, and glanced behind before looking back. "I have to warn you, Legolas, to beware of this maiden."

"Why? Whatever is the matter?"

Etrielle took another deep breath. "She is clearly a captive, and obviously for a long time. Those are dangerous, Legolas."

The prince furrowed his brows. "Tell me. I want to know everything."

Etrielle sighed. "She is very charming and beautiful – wait until you see her now – but captives like her are very deceptive."

Legolas cut to the chase. "So you are saying she could be lying."

Etrielle nodded. "And you wouldn't even know it."

Legolas sighed. "I will be on my guard. Hannon le, Etrielle."

She smiled. "You are very welcome, my dear little Laiqua." Legolas blushed at the child-version of his name as Etrielle bustled off.

Legolas knocked at the door, and Gilith called, "If you are the prince or Etrielle, please come in. If you are not, go away and never come back."

 _How rude,_ Legolas thought. But it was just what Arwen, daughter of Lord Elrond, would say.

He walked in, and she whirled around. Illuminated in the candle/torch light, Legolas concealed a gasp. She was ... stunning.

Long, wavy brown hair glistened at her waist, and softly framed her fair skinned head. Her robed frame was strong and slender, her lips vibrant and full, but her eyes, though neutral, were hardened with time and experience. They were old enough to be the eyes of the Valar themselves, but Gilith was surely younger than Legolas. The trauma, whatever it was, she had gone through was still there, and it was clear she had had no joy in her life.

Legolas was struck with compassion and a desire to hold her comfortingly, but he was not close enough to her. He smiled. "You look… fresh. How do you feel?"

"Utterly worn out, thank you."

Legolas was suddenly uncomfortable. "Do you need anything?"

She shook her head. "No, but please ask Etrielle to bring me back my things after they get washed. It is very important."

Legolas nodded. "I will."

"Swear it!" She seemed almost violent, and Legolas was startled.

"Um, I swear. But why-"

"Oh, never mind. Good night!" Legolas was practically pushed out.

After the door slammed, he heard cursing in Black Speech. How did he understand? It was the only thing he knew in that foul language. By his reasoning, use a foul language to say foul words.

Still, he would have to teach Gilith if she were to get in his father's good graces, though the king himself was not averse to an occasional fit of cursing.

After scouting out Etrielle and telling her Gilith's wish, he collapsed on his bed. He didn't sleep much, usually, but tomorrow, or today, was going to be a long day. So he folded his fair hands across his chest, and staring up at the green silk canopy, drifted into the land of stars. Elven dreamland.


	4. Chapter 4: The Revelation

Legolas arose a bit later than the crack of dawn, as he figured it was pointless getting up at his usual time (the crack of dawn) if only to just wait. He bathed, brushed and braided his hair, and slipped on a fresh tunic and leggings. Then he bounded out to the Dining Hall and found a table set for breakfast, Gilith waiting politely for him, it seemed.

"Mae govannen, hir nin."

Legolas quickly sat and waved a hand. "Just Legolas, Gilith. And good morning to you as well."

Then she immediately requested, "If it isn't too much work, I would like normal clothes please. Not gowns." He glanced at her looking despairingly at hers. "Really, do all elleths here wear dresses?"

Legolas shrugged. "The warriors do not."

Gilith sighed, relieved. "Good. Because I _am_ a warrior."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "We will see after you meet my father. An ngell nin, edo."

She complied, and heartily. Legolas only ate a raspberry jam biscuit and a glass of milk, but Gilith consumed everything else. The whole biscuit platter, the whole bacon plate, the bowl of scrambled eggs, and an entire loaf scraped with rich butter. And a jug of milk and apple juice. To his relief, she didn't devour everything down greedily like a desperate, starved human, but ate slowly and elegantly. Ate a lot.

Trying to be polite, Legolas tried not to stare, but he had never seen an elf eat that much in their entire lifetime, let alone one sitting. Elves could go days with very little sustenance, which made him wonder when her last meal was.

"A meal like this?"

Legolas nodded.

Gilith tilted her head, honestly thinking, and earnestly declared, "I do not remember."

Legolas started. "Then what did you eat in captivity?"

She cringed. "I don't know, and I don't want to know. Nothing near this. The best I got was hard bread with no flavor. The worst…well, you don't want to know that."

No wonder she was so thin. Most of her stature was muscle, under fed. Well, not for long. Dalsein, the cook, made delicious, wholesome food.

When she finished, she demanded to see him. Well, entreated sweetly was closer. Legolas was amazed how her character seemed to change from one second to another: wary, angry, insulting, alert, suspicious, quiet, rude, sarcastic, to groveling at his feet, crushing him in an embrace, to cold and back to rude, to cheerful, talkative, and polite. He didn't know what to make of her, but she was consistently beautiful.

As Galion, the butler, cleared the table, Legolas whispered, "The lady would like to see Dalsein." In due time, the cook arrived. He was a short elf with a mysterious past. Rumors were he crossed into the west with Galadriel's, Lady of Lothlorien, kin. He had, at least, the rare golden hair of the Sindarin elves of old. The same race as Legolas.

Gilith stood, and Legolas slipped up with her. She smiled. "Thank you from the bottom of my heart for this extremely satisfying meal."

Dalsein was startled. He wasn't used to being thanked, because though the elves appreciated his work, it wasn't really necessary for their survival. He was about as important as a painter.

He bowed. "My honor, lady."

Legolas sighed, and nodded to Gilith. "Tolo. My father awaits." He turned to leave, and after a moment of more pleasantries from Gilith to the flattered cook, she came.

On the walk to the throne, Legolas listed out all the proper things she should, or shouldn't, do. "Remember to bow, always respond politely with 'my lord' and such, do not be sarcastic, do not dodge questions, answer truthfully."

Gilith rolled her eyes. "Anything else?"

Legolas shrugged. "Don't roll your eyes, but nothing else I can think of for a newcomer like you."

She whirled around, and Legolas stopped abruptly. "I have met your father before, princeling." The 'princeling' laid a hand on the hilt of his knife. "As a matter of fact, I broke his arm once."

Legolas stared at her, and wished he had his bow. "Only one person recently did that. Only one." She smirked, but both jumped as a yell echoed through the halls. "GLURDAG!"

As the elves broke into a sprint for the throne, Legolas glared at her. "You lied! You're not a helpless captive! You're the general of Mordor! Our worst enemy!"

She didn't respond, but instead looked fearful. Well, she should be. Legolas should kill her immediately, but his conscience spoke against killing an unarmed lady. His mind told him this was no lady. This was a corrupted monster who had killed hundreds of his fellow elves, and due to her own admittance, wounded his father, though Legolas was no fan of him.

As they ran up the steps, Legolas saw Thranduil standing in front of the throne, holding up Gilith's, or now Glurdag's, dagger. The elves stopped short in front of him, but both forgot to bow. No one cared.

Thranduil thrust out the dagger. "Glurdag Nuzhug, nice of you to drop in. Unfortunately, your disguise failed and your true weapons were found. A Morgul blade? How many more dare you have? And do you really think –"

But he could go no further when he caught sight of Glurdag's confused, afraid, and angry face. Then he staggered backward, dropped the knife which sizzled on the floor, and stared at her with a completely shocked face. Legolas had only seen it the time Lord Elrond dared to coat his father's crown of berries in jam.

"G-g-g…Gilrael?" She widened her eyes, took a step back, and glared accusingly at Legolas, who shook his head.

She stared at Thranduil. "H-how did you-"

"GILRAEL!" He rushed forward, embraced her to her horror, and rested his cheek lovingly on her head. Honestly, Legolas was jealous.

Glurdag, or Gilith or Gilrael – he didn't know which one was real – stood stiffly, her hands at her sides while being enveloped in the dwarf-hug from the usually dignified king of the Woodland Realm.

Legolas cleared his throat, and brought his father back to his senses. "Ada! May I have a word with you?" Thranduil stepped back, and nodded curtly. Glurdag stayed where she was as Legolas and Thranduil whispered near the throne.

"Ada, do you not remember she is Glurdag, your worst enemy? She broke your arm once! Remember?"

Thranduil frowned. "But Legolas, she looks very much – "

"ADA! She was an elfling the last time you saw her. There is no way – "

"You will not interrupt me again, young man. Understand?"

Legolas glared at him. "Fine, fine, but you must beware – "

"Oh, I am. She is probably tricking me, so I had to do that for appearance."

Legolas blinked. "O-oh. T-that's good. You had me worried."

Thranduil glared at him. "But we still must be open for the possibilities. Wouldn't you be overjoyed if she was Gilrael?"

Legolas crossed his arms. "Maybe, maybe not. If, if that –" he pointed, " – was Gilrael, I would wonder if she was the same Elf of my youth. She is different, Ada. For starters, she lied to you and killed Luinil, your top general."

Thranduil leaned in and hissed, "Do not remind me _ever_ again."

He pushed past his son and glided briskly forward, where Glurdag stood daringly. "What were you doing in my forest?"

Glurdag crossed her arms. " _Your_ forest? As far as I am aware, the northern parts are yours. The southern parts, where I was, belong to no one."

Thranduil stared at her. "You do know, do you not, that to answer with a lie – "

"Is what? Lethal? If you kill me, how are you going to know anything?"

The king leaned back. "I am sure you know what I would do," he answered quietly.

Suddenly, a frightened thought flashed in Legolas' mind. _Torture me, would you? Pretend to be my friend and betray me?_ Then something jumped in his stomach. Sometimes, long ago, when he was close to Gilrael, they could read each other's thoughts if they were not careful, or forgot to control them.

He studied her carefully. If she was shorter, healthily fed, with brown hair and cheerful blue eyes… It couldn't be. Legolas' head spun. Was this really his lost friend of old?

Legolas slowly walked to her. "Glur-Gilith, we do not wish to harm you. We would never do that." She widened her eyes, surprised he knew her thoughts. Only then was Legolas certain of her true identity.

As the prince approached her, Thranduil held out a warning hand.

"Please, Gilrael, if you are in there somewhere, fight the evil. Overcome it, and be free." He gently brushed his fingertips on her forearm, and she hesitated as she looked in his reassuring eyes. But before he could comprehend it, her eyes suddenly blazed and darkened as she threw her arm around his neck, locking him in a choke.

Then she drew his own knife, released the choke, only to kick him to the ground and press the knife coldly on his neck. "Try anything, and he dies," she snarled to the guards who stepped forward.

Thranduil widened his eyes. "You would not…"

"You dare me? Oh, go ahead. Order your guards to overthrow me. And your son dies." Legolas was just about to release his other hidden knife when Gilith suddenly lurched back.

He leaped up and twirled around as his knife clattered to the ground. Guards stepped forward once more, spears in hand. Gilith was clutching her stomach, tears streaming down her face. Legolas glared at her with disgust. So, what now? Playing the role of pitiful creature? How could this be Gilrael? Yet his soft heart was throbbing with compassion and a need to help her.

"How dare he? Seize control of my own mind? What has he done to me?" She continued sobbing, while Thranduil glanced at Legolas. The prince shook his head.

"My dear, perhaps it would be best to explain." She shot her head up, tears ceased to fall. "My dear? When does the King of Eryn Lasgalen say 'my dear' to anyone?"

Thranduil forced a smile. "Now. Please, you must tell us. It would make it easier for us to help you."

She curled back, still shaking. "Why should I trust you? I can't trust anyone anymore, apparently. Everything I knew, everything I had been so sure of, has been challenged." She looked pointedly at Legolas, as if it was his fault.

Thranduil clasped his hands. "Idhrenion? No? Cuilwen?" Gilith widened her eyes, and staggered back, almost falling down the steps. Gasping, she declared, "Cuilwen! Naneth nin!"

Legolas' heart leapt. That meant that however mangled, corrupted, and ugly she had become, this elleth in front of him was his long-lost friend, Gilrael. He would do anything to get her back.


	5. Chapter 5: The Strange Disappearance

Thranduil paced the platform. "You may be Gilrael, and you may have recently escaped imprisonment, but you are still part Glurdag, and therefore, a great risk to the kingdom."

Gilrael was silent. Thranduil crossed his arms. "It would be folly to accept a person like you, I hope you understand." Gilrael sighed. "You are the only ones who know my real name, evidently, though no one has told you. I therefore trust you, and I will not do anything to harm you."

Thranduil pointed out, "You have no control over what you do or not do." Legolas stepped in front of his father.

"Ada, I will not let her be thrown out." Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "I will take full responsibility for her, take care of her needs, give her a good education and a blissful rest of her life. You need do nothing."

Thranduil leaned back, considering. "You will do everything?" "Everything, Ada. Please." "Even if she betrays the kingdom?" "I will see to it she does no such thing," Legolas affirmed resolutely.

Thranduil titled his head. He had never seen Legolas so determined for anything besides archery. "Hmm, I suppose it _would_ be good for him,"the king murmured. The responsibility would give him something besides archery to focus on, and a chance to bestow his gifts of pure virtue and charming character on a person in need of them. Who knows, maybe Legolas wouldn't hate him so much if he accepted.

Thranduil took a deep breath, hoping he wouldn't regret this. "Very well, Legolas. But you must realize how much trust I am giving you." The prince smiled widely. "I will not let you down, Ada!" _You never do._ And oh, how that smile was worth it.

* * *

While looking for Etrielle to provide Gilrael with new clothes, Legolas fought for patience. She kept badgering him about her cloak, and no matter how many times he told her he had no idea where it was, she carried on.

Finally, Legolas stopped short. "Alright, Gilrael, first lesson. Unless you want to annoy a person, ask a question once, and only once. Accept the answer and move on." Gilrael inquired, "What if I want to annoy you into looking for it?"

Legolas took a deep breath. Why was she so childlike? "How about we find Etrielle first, and ask her?" he suggested sweetly. "But-" "Thank-you for staying quiet."

He briskly marched on, only to find Gilrael wasn't following him. "For the love of…." He turned around, and saw her slumped against a column, weeping silently. Of all elleths, Legolas decided, she was the most difficult.

As he walked back, his heart panged. How he yearned for the old Gilrael, the kind, cheerful, gracious friend of his youth. How long would it take her to even come close to the elf she once was?

Legolas stood in front of her sobbing self, unsure of what to do. Finally, he decided to ask, "Why are you crying?" Instantly, she stopped and stared at him, clearly not expecting that question.

"Do you really care?" "Of course. You look troubled." Gilrael looked _stunned_. "Oh, well, um…" Her face reddened, and she was clearly embarrassed. Legolas sighed. "Come with me, and I will forget it." She shot him a grateful look and quickly followed him as he continued down the hallway.

But though they looked all over the palace and questioned all guards and servants they came across, Etrielle was nowhere to be found. The two elves arrived at the southern gate with Legolas in a considerable state of anxiety. The guards frowned with concern, and even Gilrael was worried.

"Legolas? What is so important about her?" The prince paced the stone bridge, oblivious to her question, but Magor called out, "Etrielle was Legolas' mother's friend and maid. After the queen's death, he has looked to her for comfort and advice. You know, like a second mother."

Gilrael tucked that information in her memory, and stood patiently behind Legolas, hopeful that her cloak would be returned with the discovery of Etrielle's whereabouts.

Legolas was nearing despair when he heard the clip-clop of hooves. He and Gilrael looked up and saw Arkanil slip off his horse.

A typical Silvan elf with long, reddish brown hair, he was Thranduil's top advisor, general, and friend since childhood, one of few who could effectively comfort the king in times of distress. He also happened to be the most skilled swordsman in the kingdom, and spent hours helping Legolas touch up on his swordsmanship. In return, Legolas, though nearly three times younger, helped Arkanil with his archery.

Seeing his troubled face, Legolas demanded, "What in Arda is the matter?" Arkanil's eyes swiveled from Legolas to Gilrael and back to Legolas.

"Well?" The general strode forward. "Dire news that must be reported to the king first."

"Arkanil! I am not an elfling anymore! I can handle whatever it is you have to tell me. I apologize if I seem rude, but Etrielle has gone missing and-" Arkanil whirled around. "She has?"

Legolas nodded slowly as Arkanil's face darkened. Still, he remained irritatingly silent, though he started pacing and murmuring to himself. Legolas looked helplessly at Gilrael, who, to his surprise, stepped forward in front of Arkanil.

In a calm and authoritative tone, she ordered, "Tell the prince what you saw. Being a person of high importance, he will know sooner or later anyways. Or are you afraid of him?"

Arkanil frowned. "Pardon my saying so, but who are you? A new-" Legolas stepped next to her. "Lady Gilrael." Arkanil took a step back in surprise. " _The_ Gilrael?" "One and the same."

Arkanil stared at her for a moment, then cracked a smile. "You fooled me, Legolas. Raised my hopes for a minute, but that is not Gilrael. Her hair, her eyes, they do not match." Gilrael looked like she was trying to decide whether that was an insult or a statement.

The general turned to Legolas. "I did see something disturbing. You know Etrielle usually oversees the laundry at the river from the top of the waterfall north west from here. But at the bottom, washed among the bushes, I found a hamper of cloths." Now, he glanced at Gilrael, and cleared his throat.

"If you may, lady, I would much appreciate it if you would wait inside the gates while I converse with the prince alone." Legolas thought she would put up a fight to stay and listen, but to his surprise, she left quickly.

Arkanil looked back at Legolas, shaking his head, and murmuring, "I could have sworn she was Glurdag, albeit dressed nicer." He looked up. "As I was saying, when I was poking through the brush, I discovered a ragged black cloak, ripped to shreds, but still shimmering with shadows, hemmed with red, as of blood, with a metal clasp at the throat. Legolas, you know only one person has a cloak like that."

The prince nodded. "Glurdag. Did you bring it back with you?" Arkanil stared at him. "Of course not! It is well known if one touches or even goes near something as evil as that, your mind becomes shadowed."

Legolas blushed, since he _hadn't_ known something important like that. "Well, what do you make of it, then?" Arkanil glanced side to side, and in a hushed voice, told him, "It is my belief Etrielle was trying to destroy it in the best way she knew how: toss it down a waterfall. Of course, both of us know that would not fix the problem, but how is a maid like her to know that?"

Legolas frowned. "Arkanil, Etrielle is not stupid. Remember, she was my mother's close companion, not just a maid." Arkanil furrowed his brows. "Well, of course. This gets more complicated. Since Etrielle is missing, it is altogether possible-" "That she got killed hurling herself down a waterfall just to destroy the cloak? Don't be absurd! She would never do that."

Arkanil looked at him darkly. "But what if she was being chased by the enemy, who wanted that cloak, and her only choice to keep it from their grasps was to sacrifice herself?"

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Why would the enemy want that cloak so much?" Arkanil shook his head. "Tsk, tsk, Legolas. I should think you know something basic like that." "Arkanil!"

"Legolas, that cloak is not just a cloak," he announced. "I figured." "It is a symbol of fear, of horror. One who comes near it, and falls under its spell, is so paralyzed with fear that they are helpless under attack. It has been a deadly weapon worn by Glurdag for centuries, and the fact that it is here, though ripped to shreds, is a cause to be worried. Do you know what that means?"

Legolas stared at him. "We should be concerned?" Arkanil glared at him. "Where the cloak is, Glurdag is sure to follow. And where Glurdag is, deception and death are sure to follow."

The prince fidgeted. "Ah, about that." He explained to Arkanil of finding Gilrael, and how she had become Glurdag after centuries.

Arkanil looked troubled. "This is not good. What if she is lying?" Legolas affirmed, "I like to think that since she is still one of the Eldar, her heart cannot be fully corrupted. And I doubt she was lying when she recognized her mother's name."

Arkanil shook his head, and strode forward. "She is not to be trusted until Etrielle returns and we get to the bottom of this. Understand?" Legolas sighed. "I suppose so." "And take my horse to the stables for me, will you?" "I will."

But suddenly, Arkanil turned slightly. "Oh, and Legolas? Keep a close eye on her. Never leave her alone, at least when you can help it." Legolas promised to, but as he went to take care of the horse, he couldn't help but wonder if bringing Gilrael, though once a noble friend, into the kingdom was a deadly mistake.


	6. Chapter 6: Seeds of Doubt and Mistrust

When Legolas came back from the stables, he noticed guards mounting horses for the woods, surely a search party for Etrielle. But overhearing some servants talking, he discovered that they were looking for a band of Orcs or Wargs that might have accompanied Gilrael. Legolas hurried to her room where he was told she was, to have a talk with her. He didn't want to think of what would happen if she compromised the safety of the kingdom for his own rash actions or inability to stop her.

Gilrael was clearly upset when he arrived. "I suppose you think I am to blame for Etrielle's disappearance?" Legolas sat next to her on her bed. "Well, there certainly is evidence against you." Gilrael turned her back to him, crossing her legs with some difficulty under her gown.

"Tell me yourself what they are." The prince had to stifle a laugh. What would Arwen say if she saw Gilrael sitting so awkwardly like that?

"Well, there is, of course, the question of your eager desire to reclaim that cloak, because of the fear it causes." Gilrael turned, and peered at him, her feet sliding back to the side of the bed. Her beautiful, round eyes bore into his soul, and he suddenly began to question himself. "Fear, Legolas? Tell me, when you first fought with me, did you feel the customary _fear_ associated with this cloak?"

Legolas stared at her. He was definitely not laughing then. "W-well…no. But how is that possible?" Gilrael pushed herself next to him, her body pressing against his as he wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "My, it is a bit problematic, is it? Messes with your logic, hmm?"

He wished she would give him some space or at least quit stroking his arm, but what was he supposed to do? "There really is only one logical explanation, is there, Legolas?" She purred his name into his ear. Mesmerized by her gorgeous eyes and gentle face, it was all he could do not to stare too hard. He slowly realized, "So the cloak is not a weapon, but merely a cloak. The story about it was a…myth."

Gilrael smiled, her eyes dancing. "A myth? But you said yourself it is a weapon of fear." She began stroking his cheek, always gazing up deep into his eyes. "No. It is a myth." "So a lie, then? Did the general really lie to you?"

 _Did he?_ Legolas thought. He was confused, distracted. No, something wasn't right. He was _never_ distracted, especially by elleths. But Gilrael's soft hands began wandering about his neck and face, and he felt helpless under her touch. But when did he ever feel helpless? Never.

Suddenly, he felt crowded, and knew exactly what to do. He brushed her hands from him, gently but firmly, and looked away from her captivating eyes. "Gilrael, please. I need to think."

She didn't miss a beat. "Think all you want, dear." Why did that endearing term make his heart flutter? "Just remember, did Arkanil ever touch or get near the cloak when it was in one, whole piece? Did _you_? What did _you_ feel?" Nothing.

Legolas stared at the ground, the world spinning. He knew better than to trust her, but what she said made utter sense. And who had told him not to trust her? Arkanil.

The prince stood. He didn't know who to trust or what to believe, but he knew, whether Arkanil was trustworthy or not, she should be near him at all times, if only because he decided he liked her company.

"Come with me outside. I will do some archery to clear my mind, and I will see where your skills in that department lie." Gilrael made a face. "As long as the arrows are clean, I will be glad to. But my archery is nothing compared to my swordsmanship."

Legolas had heard the rumors. She was claimed to be the most skilled swordsman in Middle Earth, but Legolas knew Arkanil and even his father himself were hard to beat.

"We will test both your archery and your swordsmanship, which I want to see." She grinned. "You have heard? You will not be disappointed."

 _That is the least of my worries right now,_ Legolas wanted to say, but for the first time, Gilrael was light, cheerful, and easy going. Just like her old self. He didn't want to ruin her mood by worrying about Etrielle's whereabouts. Or where she lay dead.

As he fetched his equipment and headed for the armory to get Gilrael some, he completely forgot to question her about what the search party was looking for: a possible band of Orcs and Wargs following in her wake, waiting for the perfect moment to spring an attack.


	7. Chapter 7: Fights and the Black Fox

It must be confessed that when Legolas' mind was disturbed and he was doing archery, everything and everyone, including Gilrael, around him went largely unnoticed. But before she could complain, she froze in awe.

As the lieutenant of Mordor, Gilrael had access to news not many in Middle Earth knew about, but while she had heard about the skill of the archer prince of the Woodland Realm, she had not expected this.

From about ninety meters away from the targets, Legolas absently nocked, pulled, and released three arrows at once, all hitting three different targets. Gilrael hadn't known that was possible.

Then she watched transfixed as he flung a rapid volley of arrows toward the targets, each arrow splitting a previous one. Needless to say, all hit the exact center.

But Legolas was not thinking about the arrows, or even his form. He was tossing in his mind the matter of Gilrael's cloak, Etrielle's disappearance, and what Arkanil or Gilrael had to do with it. There were really only two options: Arkanil was lying and a traitor or Gilrael was lying and spying out the palace.

If Arkanil was the traitor, how did he get influenced? He had served the royal family faithfully for millennia, once saving the king's own life. Though he strongly asserted that Gilrael's cloak was a deadly weapon of fear, maybe, Legolas thought, he was _too_ strong.

Then there was the matter of Gilrael. Legolas wanted to believe she was innocent, that she had suffered enough in captivity and wanted no more of evil. But he couldn't shake from his mind the fact that she wanted her cloak back so much, and that she tried to get him to believe the cloak was harmless. If it was really harmless, why would she want it so much?

Either way, one of them was lying, and since both were so smooth and convincing, Legolas knew he would have a hard time of finding out which was the culprit. An uneasy feeling nudged him, trying to warn him, but for the first time in his life, he shook it off, unwilling to give up that beautiful elleth he _knew_ was innocent for a deceitful monster.

"LEGOLAS!" The prince's grip fumbled, and the arrow fell to the ground. He looked up, scowling, at the person who had called his name. Falluen, a close friend of Legolas', was striding quickly towards him.

"That was the fifth time I called, mellon! Now, what is on your mind?" Legolas stared at him. "How did you know something _was_ on my mind?" Falluen grinned, glancing back at Gilrael, who was gaping at the prince.

"You never leave a maiden on the field unattended to like that." Annoyed at being interrupted from his routine, the prince couldn't help but snap, "She can entertain herself."

Falluen's grin widened. "Oooh. This will be good." He flinched under Legolas' glare. "Alright! I'm sorry!" The prince shook his head. "Well, what is it?"

Falluen sighed. "Apparently Firlowen has other things to do, so I'm serving as messenger. Arkanil wanted you and, ah, the lady to meet him in the arena." Legolas frowned. "He wants to practice sword fighting?"

Falluen shrugged. "How am I supposed to know?" Legolas accepted his arrows from the collector, and declared, "You are a terrible messenger." "Luckily that is Firlowen's job."

Legolas strode to Gilrael, who hadn't shot a single arrow. He gently told her, "I apologize that you did not get the chance to practice, but Arkanil invited us to the arena." Her wide eyes softened as she smiled coyly. "I don't mind. Your archery is better than mine anyways. Way better. It was a pleasure to watch."

Legolas stared at her for a moment before lamely saying, "Thank you." He took off, Falluen and Gilrael on his heels.

As they whisked through the halls, Legolas struggled with confusion. Why did Gilrael seem to be checking him out, making him so nervous? She was supposed to be under _his_ scrutiny, not the other way around. He hated people who made him nervous.

"Watch out!" Something yanked him backward, and he toppled to the ground on top of Falluen. But not before he saw what he nearly tripped on. A black fox, accented with ashy streaks.

* * *

The arena was a circular enclosure surrounded in a semi-circle by buildings and the other half by trees. The floor was well-packed dirt, with a golden fence surrounding it. There were a few seating areas for spectators, but they were usually empty.

That day, Thranduil occupied it, absently sharpening his silver sword when the young elves walked in. He glanced up, and to their surprised faces, announced, "I thought I'd take a break from overseeing the searches for Etrielle. I will be gouging your levels of skill, and may have a round myself. Falluen, go clean your mess in the stables. No, do not give me that look. I know it was you."

Falluen shot Legolas a disappointed look, and slowly dragged his feet away. "Pick up your steps!" Thranduil hollered. Falluen rolled his eyes and daintily walked off.

Gilrael observed the room with her wide, brown eyes, taking in everything. She slowly followed Legolas toward the ring, where he dumped his quiver and arrows on a bench, threw open the gate to the ring, and whipped out his sword. She remarked, "Quaint room. Where are the weapons?"

Legolas marched to the stone wall, pressed it, and it slid to the side, revealing a neat rack of swords and spears. Gilrael hesitated at the gate into the ring. Thranduil called out, "Feel free!" Odd. The king was more welcoming than the prince.

As she made her way to the wall, Legolas made his way in front of his father. Leaning against the fence, he asked, "Where is Arkanil?"

Thranduil leaned back, and with his rare talent, made the stone bench seem as grand and comfortable as his throne. "It _is_ rather odd. He left just before you arrived, saying something about a black fox." In Legolas' peripheral vision, he noticed Gilrael freeze.

Thranduil shook his head. "In my opinion, he seemed quite eager to follow it immediately lest it get out of his sight. I do _not_ know what is going on in my kingdom these days." He sighed wearily.

Apparently, Gilrael's fears were assuaged when Arkanil sauntered in, the black fox nowhere to be seen. What exactly she was afraid of, Legolas could only guess.

Arkanil swiftly entered the ring. "Ah, good. Gilrael, I have heard of your expertise in the art of swordsmanship, and I wanted to see for myself. You have picked out a sword?"

Gilrael nodded. "It's very light." Legolas raised an eyebrow. Elven swords are light, yes, but not _very_ light, especially for an elleth.

Arkanil motioned to Legolas. "Do you mind Legolas testing you first?" Gilrael raised an eyebrow, but shook her head. "No, I don't mind. But in this dress?" Legolas watched Arkanil's face carefully as a curious, or mischievous, glint swept over his eyes.

"In that dress," Arkanil affirmed. Gilrael stared at him, then blinked. "Okay." She turned to the prince. "Legolas, do not go easy on me. I'm sorry if I hurt you."

She certainly looked odd, with the long, slightly curved sword of the Elves and a flowing gown with long, hanging sleeves. Legolas wondered how she was supposed to fight. Surely she couldn't have fast maneuverability, especially with slippers on.

But he quickly discovered her attire made her look grander as she sparred him. Every time she twirled, the cloths rippled in the wind. Every time she raised her arms, the sleeves danced. And the whole time, her face beamed, glowing with beauty, and triumph, for the rumors, as far as Legolas was concerned, were true.

She was no match for him, even when he realized she was merely toying with him. Then he got mad. He thrust harder, jabbed fiercer, into thin air, because every time, she either stepped, ducked, or twirled gracefully out of the way. Her style was one Legolas had never seen before. A mix of elegance, spattered with heavy attacks. Deadly.

Gilrael made him work. A kick to the legs, a tap on his shoulder, a punch to the stomach, even a flick on his cheek. How in Arda did she defend his attacks with only one hand?

Finally, when Legolas' face was flushed and would have been sweating furiously had he been a Man, Gilrael gave him a dramatic shove to the back, sending him sprawling to the ground, and causing him to bite his lip in pain from all of his bruises. How he hated this mutant of a friend.

* * *

Thranduil sat up straight, glaring. This young lady had defeated his son as effortlessly as if she was playing, without a single speck of dust on her gown. But that wasn't what made him angry. He had realized with horror her strange, deadly style, one he had witnessed kill his own father. It was Sauron's, which meant Gilrael had been trained by the Dark Lord, and had apparently inherited his strength.

Before he knew it, Thranduil had his sword in his hand, and he was in the arena. Legolas was groaning, and he suddenly felt an urge to swoop his son up into his arms, like he did when he was an elfling. _And before Serilna got killed._ But that would have been inappropriate, and Legolas would hate him even more.

The king directed his withering glare toward Gilrael, who glanced at him with a smirk, then suddenly executed a flying kick into his chest. He was staggered, but flew at her angrily, for his and his son's sake.

* * *

As Arkanil helped Legolas stand, his stomach churned. How had Gilrael defeated him so…easily? Legolas knew he was a bad swordsman, but he wasn't _that_ bad. Something was, obviously, amiss.

He painfully made his way over to a bench, and stretched while watching his father…lose. Gilrael wasn't smiling now, and looked like she was actually focusing, but still managed to beat the king up. Legolas winced every time she made contact, remembering his own bruises, while Arkanil's glare deepened.

"I'm going to kill her," he growled. Legolas glanced up at the general, who was standing with clenched fists, and saw he was dead serious. "Don't you think that is a bit drastic?"

Arkanil narrowed his eyes. "That girl has been training with Sauron, Legolas. Nothing is too drastic for her."

He yanked his sword out of its sheath as Gilrael twisted Thranduil's wrist, making him cry out in pain and send his sword flying. Mercifully, she didn't throw him to the ground like she did with Legolas.

Arkanil marched into the ring, picking up Thranduil's sword. He snarled, "I get two, you get one." Then, without warning, he faked left and swiped right.

Legolas watched guards help his father out, then he watched the fight carefully. He had noticed something neither the king nor Arkanil had seen. Gilrael's eyes, once a beautiful deep brown flecked with gold, were now black, but ablaze with fury and deep hatred, like evil itself. Legolas had seen that look on her before, the first time she met Thranduil, when she had lost control of herself and had attacked the prince with a strength not her own.

Horror dawned on him as he realized this, and he leapt to his feet and rushed into the ring, tackling Gilrael to the ground. Taken by surprise, she offered no resistance, but her well-trained hands stayed firmly grasped around her sword's hilt.

Arkanil froze mid-swing, still glowering at Gilrael. As Legolas slowly stood, he shot the general a glare. "Attack a lady, would you, with two swords against one?" Arkanil looked at him with unbelieving eyes. "Legolas, her strength is not natural, even for one of the Eldar. It is of a powerful Maia. Like Sauron." Legolas glanced down, where Gilrael was panting heavily, thoroughly exhausted, but eyes back to normal.

"Arkanil, I do not know what to think right now. The way you fought her, almost animal-like, in such a wild frenzy…" Legolas shook his head. The general sheathed his sword, and strode toward the gate. "Your suspicion is misplaced, Legolas. I fought her the way I would have fought Sauron, and I am injured like the way I would have been had I fought him." As Arkanil was about leave, he turned slightly. "Take care of her, but it would not be wise to let her stay here much longer, especially with that lack of self-control."

Legolas crossed his arms. "Oh, so you want me to send her to Imladris? I am sure Lord Elrond would be thrilled." Arkanil didn't even crack a smile. "No, I was thinking further north. To the Rangers." He swept out of sight while Legolas muttered, " _Right_. And I'm the king of Gondor."

He turned to Gilrael, who had managed to turn onto her back, but was now laying on the dirt like a dead fish, arms splayed to the side. He hovered over her uncertainly until she whispered, "You see why I apologized beforehand. Are you badly hurt?" Legolas crouched next to her. "Not really. Just unusually spent and very much bruised. Can you stand?"

She didn't even have to think. "No. I'm utterly worn out. Can you, perhaps…can you carry me?" Legolas stared her limp form, a body weak from overuse, but still graceful and shapely. _Could_ he carry her? Of course. Did he _want_ to carry her? More than he realized. But there was no way he would risk dropping her in his current shocked and distracted state.

"You want _me_ to carry you? I should have servants-" "No, Legolas. I want _you_." Legolas' heart fluttered, but he milked it even more. "What if I drop you?" "You won't. I trust you." How he relished those words.

"What if I don't feel comfortable carrying you?" Gilrael cracked open her eyes, a smile playing at her lips. "Then _don't_." Legolas gave up. "Fine. You win." She closed her eyes peacefully. "Tell me something I don't know."

Legolas took a deep breath, and threaded his arms under her back and knees, gently lifting her off the ground, her head resting on his shoulder. She was lighter than he expected.

As he walked out of the arena into the hallway, he ordered a young servant, "Please gather my weapons and bring them to my room." She looked twice at him carrying Gilrael and raised an eyebrow, but bowed and disappeared through the doorway.

Guards and various palace servants stared at Legolas as he passed them, and he knew the daily gossip would be about him. Sighing, he resigned himself, knowing it was inevitable as long as Gilrael was around. And no matter what Arkanil had advised him, he was determined to let her stay.

Legolas was about to go down the steps to the royal chamber hallway, but he caught a glimpse of something furry and black scamper by. Gilrael immediately sat up, causing Legolas to stumble slightly and adjust his arms. By the time Gilrael settled and he looked back, the fox was gone. A coincidence, maybe, but it was too suggestive for Legolas to believe. He was convinced Gilrael was trying to hide that fox from him, but why?


	8. Chapter 8: A Glimmer of Reason

When Legolas laid Gilrael on her bed, he lingered uncertainly. "How are you supposed to take a bath and change if you cannot walk? Would you like me to get a maid?"

Gilrael frowned. "I thought Etrielle was missing." Legolas sighed impatiently. "Surely you know she is not the _only_ maid." Her face reddened. "Oh, well, of course. I am just not used to having so many…people." Legolas crossed his arms. "Do you want a maid or not?"

She shook her head. "No, thank you. I'll make do." Legolas raised an eyebrow. "You cannot walk, yet you can-" "Mind your own business!" she snapped. Then she cried out in pain.

Legolas shook his head. "You really need a healer to look at you. Would you like-" "LEAVE!" Legolas was, by then, very annoyed, so he shrugged and slipped out.

By Eru, he had such mixed emotions about her. Part of him knew she was still largely Glurdag, not to be trusted and to be hated, but deep inside he was sure Gilrael was still there, the gentle, kind elleth he knew and adored. Maybe that was why he was not as suspicious of her as he would have been, and why he had to investigate Arkanil's truthfulness.

But the moment he emerged from the hallway, Falluen stood waiting. He lit up when he saw the prince. "Good! You're not too injured?" Legolas grunted. He was bruised all over and felt like he was internally bleeding, but he felt less humiliated knowing that, in a way that was difficult to wrap his mind around, he had fought Sauron.

"I'm fine, Falluen. I've-" "Been worse, yes." Falluen sighed. "Well, I finished cleaning the stables, so I went back to the king to tell him, but guess what he orders me to do next?" Legolas crossed his arms. "My, I have no idea." "He wants me to catch a black fox!"

Legolas froze, his attention piqued as Falluen exclaimed, "Can you imagine? Black foxes are extremely rare in Eryn Lasgalen. I mean, red foxes are rare enough, you know, they like to stay hidden, but I've never seen a black fox in my life! Have you?"

Legolas numbly nodded his head. "Actually, I have." Falluen peered at him. "You have? When?" Legolas sighed. "Yesterday in the woods, today in the palace. Why does Ada want you to catch it?"

Falluen shrugged. "He said Arkanil thought it would help find Etrielle, but I don't see how. It's not as if it could lead us to her." Legolas lit up. "No, Falluen! It _could_ lead us to her! Have you never read of trained foxes?"

His friend stared at him. "Now you've lost it, mellon." Legolas started pacing. "Falluen, that fox followed us all the way from the southern borders to here. Now it is in the palace. If Gilrael trained it…" Legolas frowned. No, his logic failed. It would mean she was responsible for Etrielle's disappearance, and that was impossible. Unless she had a party of orcs or Wargs following her commands…No. How would she communicate with them?

Falluen rolled his eyes. "Well, I still have to play servant today and catch it." Legolas whirled around. "I know! I will catch it for you." Falluen blinked. "I-I would appreciate that, but-" "Falluen, I'm a better hunter than you. I could bait it and trap it faster than you."

His friend nodded slowly. "Yes, I suppose so. But your father told me to do it." Legolas waved a hand. "Leave that to me. Now you run along." Falluen grinned. "You act like you're so much older than me." Legolas ignored him, and strode off.

Another theory had grasped him. Perhaps the fox was Arkanil's, and the general had sent it to follow Legolas and Gilrael. And maybe Arkanil was a traitor, and had kidnapped Etrielle for some reason, and the fox knew where. His instinct nudged him that Arkanil would never do that, especially since he had been a close friend of the queen and therefore her maid, but again, he ignored it.

* * *

Arkanil was sitting on his bed grimacing in pain while a healer bound his knee in a bandage. Legolas frowned in concern. "Is it broken?" The healer looked perplexed. "Not broken. It _is_ curious, though. It's as if the knee is sprained, strained, stretched out, and burned at the same time."

Arkanil glowered at the healer. "Burned? How is that possible?" The elf shrugged. "Like I said, unusual. If I had known better, I would have supposed Sauron, ah, laid his hand on it. He has the power to send heat through the skin and burn through the tissue surrounding the bone of your knee, which is exactly what I feel here. Would you like more details?" Arkanil scowled. "No, thank you."

"Well, then," the healer cheerfully continued, "I advise you to stay off your knee. I'll order crutches for you. Would you like them carved? I could have vines swirling-" "No!" the general growled. "Now, how long until it heals?"

The healer shrugged. "You're quite healthy, my lord. I'd say, oh, maybe a fortnight." "Two weeks?!" The elf smiled good naturedly. "A fortnight is two weeks, yes."

Arkanil slammed his hand on his bed. "You are dismissed!" The elf frowned. "Are you sure? A glass of herbed water would ease the-" "Have Galion deliver it to me!"

The healer stood and bowed. "As you wish, my lord." On the way out, he nodded his head to Legolas.

Arkanil rolled his eyes. "Healers." He suddenly seemed to remember Legolas was standing there. Gazing at him, he questioned, "Are you alright? No substantial injuries? No burns?" Legolas rubbed his arms. "Minor ones. Just bruises and a sick feeling."

Arkanil nodded approvingly. "You are fast for an archer." Legolas couldn't tell whether that was a compliment or not. He sat on the edge of the bed.

"Arkanil, I came to ask you a few questions." The general nodded. "Do you happen to, I don't know, have a trained black fox?" He nearly slapped himself on the forehead. If he did, he would lie about it and say no, and if he didn't, of course he would say no.

But Arkanil said neither. "Why do you ask?" Legolas shrugged. "I noticed one following us from the south back to the palace, and I saw it in the palace." He reasoned that if Arkanil knew of this fox, he would be surprised, and, indeed, Arkanil straightened.

"A black fox? How odd. They thrive in Mordor." Legolas frowned. "On what? There cannot possibly be anything to eat there." Arkanil shrugged. "Rats, some dead plants." He peered at the young elf. "I have seen that fox you are talking about, and I recognize it."

Legolas was startled. "From where?" Arkanil looked pained. "I don't think it was named, exactly, but it was the battle where Glurdag wounded your father." No wonder Legolas hadn't noticed it. He had been in charge of the archers in the thick of the battle, and a fox, especially a black one, would have gone unnoticed.

"The fox was acting as her bodyguard, in a sense, attacking anything that came near her, be it Orc or Elf, with deadly accuracy."

"But how does a fox kill an Elf, or even an Orc?" Arkanil looked grim. "That is not an ordinary fox." Legolas sighed. "I figured." "So it does not kill by ordinary means."

Legolas frowned. "I am afraid I do not follow. You said it attacked everything that came near it and Glurdag." Arkanil shook his head. "That was a figure of speech. It killed, therefore it must have attacked. But I didn't _see_ it attack. It just prowled behind Glurdag."

Legolas pursed his lips. "So you are saying the fox not only does not belong to you, but it belongs to Gilrael." Arkanil frowned. "Are you accusing me?" Legolas realized his mistake, and swore in his head. "I didn't…I was only saying-" "Legolas, how could you? You think I sent that fox after Etrielle?"

That was exactly what the prince thought, but his stomach churned to see Arkanil's look. Not anger. Disappointment. And hurt.

"Has she seduced you in less than a day? I didn't know you were so shallow to fall for her beauty." Legolas couldn't stand it. "Arkanil! No! That is not true!" The general shook his head. "And looks like your usual diplomatic, convincing arguments have left as well."

Legolas was angry, at Gilrael and the false accusations. But were they truly false? He had ignored his instincts and his trust in Arkanil because he wanted to believe her. She made it easy, with her kind and, yes, beautiful eyes. But now his reasoning returned. She had grown up with Sauron, and therefore grew to be very good at lying and acting. When he first met her, she had tested him out.

She was haughty, but he just treated her with annoyance. Sarcastic, indifference. Sobbing for mercy, awkwardness. Then she found out, by playing damsel in distress, he was compassionate, and that he treated her with the most respect when she was confident, gentle, and kind. Immediately all signs that he hated in elleths disappeared, and she became a picture perfect…friend.

Then she had warped his mind to accuse Arkanil with intelligent logic and a smooth voice, even when she was possessed by Sauron and had attacked him and his father.

The black fox was hers, Legolas knew, but was it really responsible for Etrielle's disappearance or, Eru forbid, her death? He had a hard time imagining a fox killing the faithful but fierce maid, but perhaps Gilrael had sent the party of Orcs after her, if the party really existed. One thing he could not figure out was why the enemy was so interested in Etrielle.

Arkanil cleared his throat. "I hate to interrupt your thoughts, Legolas, and I do not mean to be so harsh, but I would like you to leave." The prince stood immediately. "I will solve this and I will bring Etrielle back, dead or alive. It's the least I can do for thinking you a traitor."

He spun around and strode determinedly out, but he noticed Arkanil spring out of bed, wincing as he landed on his bad knee. The prince rounded the corner as the general glared at the floor and picked up his sword, gritting his teeth.


	9. Chapter 9: Two Clues

Legolas had to use all of his self-control not to storm to Gilrael's room. He tried her door, but found it was locked. Before he kicked it off its hinges, he suddenly froze as he heard voices, very soft but loud enough for his elven ears to hear. One was Gilrael, and the other was the voice of a young male. Whether Man or, however unlikely, Elf, Legolas could only guess.

"I already told you he is on my trail!" Gilrael hissed. "I thought you said you lured him off." "I did! But he is no thick-headed princeling. He won't stay convinced for long, especially if he's not around me." Legolas heard shuffling.

"Mhmm, my dear," the male whispered. "He has the brain of a rock not to adore a beauty like you." Gilrael was likely scowling. "Not now, Roquen! Focus! If he goes to Arkanil, we might be ruined. That general is not as naïve and easily tricked as the prince is."

Legolas clenched his fists as the male, Roquen, assured her, "Still, it is too late for them. Etrielle will be long gone by the time they discover anything."

Legolas couldn't hold it in anymore. He kicked the door with all his might and pushed. The hinges gave way and Legolas burst inside, to find an insulted looking Gilrael, wrapped in just a blanket, and very much alone.

She yelped. "Disturb a lady, will you?" Seeing her on the bed, clearly in pain and helpless with surprise and no clothes, Legolas had an overwhelming urge to protect her, help her, comfort her. But he fought it with his soul, overcoming the spell she cast upon him with those beautiful eyes and powerful presence… _Snap out of it, Legolas,_ he scolded himself.

"Who was that man in here? Don't play innocent!" Legolas sternly commanded. He delivered her his super deluxe death glare, and she shrunk back. "I don't know what you're talking about." Legolas took a step forward, and she leapt to her feet from the bed, snarling, "I'm telling the truth!"

"When does the student of Sauron tell the truth?" She widened her eyes, but when she tried to take a step forward, her legs would not accept the weight. She staggered, arms flailing, and no matter Legolas' feelings, he wasn't heartless, so he caught her around her waist.

For a moment, their eyes locked, and Legolas caught a glimpse into Gilrael's true self. She was abused in every way, frightened, desperate, and near to despair. Just when Legolas was about to pull her close and embrace her comfortingly, she slipped out of his arms and collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily.

"Stop it, Legolas! Don't sink to my level!" He frowned, utterly confused. "What am I doing?" She stared at him, and raised an eyebrow. "You don't know? The charm spell?"

Legolas glared at her. "Is that it? You cast a spell on me?" She seemed to be weighing her options, and finally decided to say, "Yes, but you broke it. It will not be easy for me now."

Legolas scowled. "You are getting me off track! Tell me. Who. Is. That. Man." She winced and rubbed her elbow, then resolutely declared, "He is not a man!" But no matter how much Legolas argued, that was all he got out of her. Not a man, she said. And his voice was much too high to be a Dwarf. That meant he was an Elf, corrupted like Gilrael. Was it too much to try to save _both_ of them from hopeless ruin?

The prince softened. "He is an elf." Gilrael flinched, but didn't say a word. Legolas crossed his arms. "Look, Gilrael, I overheard part of your conversation, and so I know Etrielle is going to be 'long gone'. What does that mean?" Gilrael smirked. "You think you are so threatening, hmm? But what are you threatening?"

Legolas realized that she would not tell him anything if he just spoke to her, and he could never bring himself to harm her, especially in her already painful state. And she knew that.

Something she said earlier sparked in his head. _Charm spell._ That meant somehow, he was charming her. Well, time to turn the tide against her.

He strode over to her bed and eased down casually. She frowned warily as he used his most persuasive, soothing voice. "You think Etrielle will give you important information? She will not. You may torture her, harm her, whatever you choose, but she would die before you gained anything." Gilrael sniffed. "So she will die." Legolas didn't miss a beat. "You will kill an innocent, fellow kinsman? Why not finish questioning her and send her back?"

Gilrael looked torn, but evidently, she had a strong will. She scooted away from him. "You understand nothing, princeling," she snarled. "You elves live in your three individual kingdoms, blissfully unaware of everything going on the outside world. Elrond convinces you he's got everything under control, Galadriel assures everyone she is monitoring everything with her Mirror, but you are all misled. You will never see Etrielle again."

She promptly stood, clearly to go change into a new outfit, but she realized her old dress was soiled with dirt and blood, and she would not get another one without asking Legolas. It was a trivial bargaining tool, but it worked.

"What exactly do you want to know? I will give you one truthful answer if you give me a tunic and leggings and-" Legolas held up a hand. "One answer, I send you a dress. Two answers, then you will get your requested tunic and accessories." Gilrael scowled. "Fine."

Legolas smiled. "Excellent. First, where is the exact location of Etrielle?" Gilrael leaned against the wall. "Hmm. It is unfortunate the place is not marked on the map." "Well?" Legolas pressed. She sighed. "The waterfall."

Legolas glared at her and stood. "That is not an exact location." She insisted, "It is, I swear. Second question." Legolas pursed his lips. He had six, but somehow, he had to choose one. "What is the importance of your black fox?"

Gilrael snickered. "Elf man. Maia. That is really all you need to figure things out. Now, my clothes!" Legolas was less than satisfied with her answers, but he would consult Falluen, an expert in riddles. He strode to the closet, and threw open the door. There were neat racks of an assortment of tunics, gowns, and cloaks, shelves with folded leggings and undergarments, and shoes lining the floor.

Gilrael's mouth fell open. "No way." Legolas sighed. "My father is quite…fashionable. Every room in the royal chambers are fully 'stocked', so to speak. But why did you not look in the closet before?" She reddened. "I am not used to such…luxuries."

Legolas sighed. "Enjoy. One last word before I leave." He suddenly went forward, and cupped her face in his hands. Her doe eyes widened, but she looked more nervous than afraid. "Gilrael, I am not here to harm you or blackmail you into fulfilling my wishes. I want you to be happy, content, and peaceful. I am not claiming to know all the pain you have gone through, because there is no way I can know, but I am here to help you overcome them and try to forget them as much as possible. You will be safe here, and need not worry about future harm."

Before he could change his mind, he leaned forward, planted a soft kiss on her head, and strode quickly out, leaving a speechless Gilrael and a jealous looking black fox.


	10. Chapter 10: The Shapeshifter

Falluen was writing a letter when Legolas hurried into his room. He was quick to hide it, the prince noticed.

After telling him Gilrael's two answers, Falluen leaned back in his chair. "The waterfall, she said?" Legolas nodded. He shrugged. "It's plain that we need to search the surrounding area, but it is unfortunate that darkness will set in soon."

Legolas gripped the knife he carried with him at all times. "I would search for her at night in a storm. She was not just Naneth's maid and friend, Falluen. She was and is my most helpful advisor and mentor. After all she has done for me, I would be ungrateful to leave her to death, or worse."

Falluen frowned. "Worse?" Legolas grit his teeth. "They plan to torture information out of her, but they will not get anything. Especially when I rescue her. Now, what do you make of 'Elf man' and 'Maia'?"

Falluen leaned forward. "Hmm. Elf man is clearly that Roquen character. As for Maia, the only one I can think of is Sauron. Do you think Roquen is Sauron?" Legolas rolled his eyes. "Yes, about as much as I believe you are a dwarf."

Falluen shrugged. "Well, it is clear she was referencing Roquen and Sauron. Other than that, I have no idea."

Legolas straightened suddenly. "Maybe she was not talking about Sauron. Perhaps she was referring to the traits of a Maia! What are those?"

Falluen frowned. "Maia?" Legolas crossed his arms. "No, fool. Traits!" "Ah. Well, they can shape themselves in the form of other creatures. Sauron especially is a master of illusions and shapeshifting." Legolas rubbed his hands together in excitement. "By Eru, I think I have solved it!"

Falluen stood eagerly. Legolas flashed him a triumphant grin. "Roquen is a shapeshifter, who often takes the form of a black fox!" Falluen blinked. "Really? But Elves cannot do that."

Legolas shrugged. "Maybe Sauron gave him that power." Falluen looked unconvinced, but asked, "So, what are you going to do now?" Legolas pursed his lips. "Sneak out. Scout the area around the waterfall, and hopefully find Etrielle."

Falluen frowned. "Alone? But what if there are Orcs and Wargs, or even this Roquen? They will outnumber you." "No, they won't," a sudden voice declared.

The two elves whirled around, and found Gilrael standing resolutely in the doorway, dressed beautifully and heavily armed. She strode into the room and faced them. "The reason is because there are no Orcs or Wargs."

Legolas murmured, "How can you walk so painlessly?" while Falluen raised an eyebrow. "How do you know?"

Gilrael sighed. "You have sent search and hunting parties out, have you not? But they have returned with nothing. Surely skilled warriors like those would not miss and band of rambling Orcs in a foreign wood! Because there is not an orc in it

Falluen seemed satisfied, but Legolas frowned. "Why are you telling us this?" Gilrael looked to the side and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "I-I thought about what you told me. I am still in a state of shock, thinking this is too good to be true, but…" She looked up and gazed at him solemnly. "I trust you."

Neither Legolas nor Falluen could say a word. Gilrael sighed. "You overheard my conversation with Roquen. I called you naïve, easily tricked, but…" She took a deep breath. "I don't believe that." She twisted her ring. "You solved my little riddle?"

Falluen nodded. "Roquen…is guarding Etrielle?" Gilrael pursed her lips. "Hard to tell. He was very confusing."

Legolas looked at her. "I am going to the waterfall. Will you come? You could point out the way." Gilrael stared at him. "I'm sorry. I swore I wouldn't." She twisted her ring again nervously. "But don't go alone. Take Falluen with you. And do not underestimate Roquen. A fox is not the only thing he can turn into."

Without another word, she slipped out.


	11. Chapter 11: Sneakings

While hiking through the woods, Falluen remarked, "Gilrael's ring is very strange." Legolas jumped over a log and twirled to avoid entangling his cloak. He had hurriedly changed and strapped on his weapons, and felt much more at ease with his trusty bow in his grip and comforting quiver on his back.

"It was one of the first things I noticed about her," Legolas responded. "But it is not dangerous. It is just a ring." Falluen pointed out, "The same could be said of the One Ring, if one was not familiar with it."

Legolas halted in his tracks at the mention of the Ring. He hissed, "Do not speak of it! It lies unknown and hidden, and we want it to stay that way."

Falluen frowned. "Would you not rather face it than let it lie unknown, possibly in the wrong hands?" He got a sudden inspiration. "Because I am sure that is Gilrael's task. To find it. And for some reason, they think Etrielle knows where it is."

Legolas pushed forward, guided by the light, however dim, of the crescent moon and the stars. "If that is true, they are fools. No one knows where it is."

Falluen absently ducked under a branch while musing, "Surely Sauron gifted that ring to her. Perhaps it _is_ dangerous, like the others he crafted." Legolas glanced at his friend with grudging approval. "You may be right. Something I read reminded me of it…" Legolas nearly bumped into a tree, had he not tripped on a jutting rock and landed face down in the leaves.

He cursed as he stood and with the help of Falluen shook off the leaves, Falluen teasing him the whole time. Soon enough, they snuck on.

Falluen wondered, "Do you think Gilrael will be able to cover for us? What if we are not back by dawn?" Legolas grunted. "If you have not noticed, she is an excellent liar. We'll be fine. And at the end of this, we probably will not _have_ to lie. Ada will understand."

Nevertheless, he suddenly broke into a run. "Come, Falluen. We must make haste, just in case." Soundlessly, they skirted around dead leaves, leapt like deer over dead logs and ducked under low reaching tree limbs.

Shortly, they heard the thundering of the falls, and slowed to a careful walk as they slunk behind tree trunks. They crouched in the cover of some bushes and whispered, just in case a certain fox was listening.

"What are we going to do now?" Legolas hid a smile. Things get risky and Falluen is more than glad to hand the responsibility to the older elf. "I am going to climb down this hill. Search the banks next to the waterfall. I have an idea, but if it is true, it will be hard for me to go unseen." Falluen raised an eyebrow. "Even in an elven cloak?" Legolas nodded.

Falluen shook his head. "While I stay here and watch you walk to your death?" Legolas laid a hand on his shoulder. "It will not be the case. There is only one foe. I can handle him."

Falluen frowned. "You could barely handle Gilrael, a female. Roquen will be much more difficult to fight. And by the time you get down there and possibly get ambushed, I will be too far away to help, even with arrows. Surely you cannot think-"Legolas laid a finger on his lips, and signaled for silence with his blazing eyes. He drew his hood to cover his golden hair and make his face less noticeable, and motioned for Falluen to do the same.

Slowly, they peered above the bushes, and saw a similarly cloaked and hooded figure slink through the rocks at the bottom of the falls. They held their breath and watched in silence as he leapt to the cliff from which the water gushed and pressed himself against it. The light of the moon and stars shone on his face, and however darkened, the elves' keen vision could see who he was. It was Arkanil, leaving a rather obvious trail of blood in his wake.

The young elves lowered themselves and talked in even quieter whispers than before.

"Do you think he really _is_ a traitor after all?" Falluen asked. Legolas pursed his lips. "It seems odd that he would leave a trail of blood in his footsteps, and odder still he would walk when his knee is that injured." "Perhaps both Arkanil and Roquen are enemies." "I will not accuse anyone until I know the facts."

Once again, they peered above the bushes, but Arkanil was gone. Falluen gasped aloud, and earned a withering glare. Legolas scanned the ground with his entire focus, and saw the blood lead up to the water, but not back. It was as if Arkanil had jumped right under the direct gush of water. Legolas doubted he could survive that, especially with an injured knee.

* * *

Gilrael sucked in quick breaths of air. Her body was aching and crying out for rest, but she had learned long ago how to ignore it. Sauron had not possessed her like that before, but he had done many things more painful than she could bear to think about over the millennia of her captivity.

She had made sure that none of her wounds was dripping blood and had set off for the woods. Sneaking past the guards was easy, especially since she had practiced eavesdropping on the Dark Lord himself.

Navigating the forest was easy. Gilrael had spent hours poring over maps and knew them by heart. Worse case, she could always follow the river back to the palace.

As sure as she was, Gilrael still had mixed emotions about her mission. True, she trusted the prince and felt safe around him. But she couldn't let him walk in on an unsuspecting Roquen. She had no doubts Legolas would kill him the first chance he got, and vice versa. Especially vice versa.

Where would she be without Roquen? He had been captured a few centuries ago, and had saved her from insanity. With another elf like her who actually respected her, unlike a certain Maia, her suicidal thoughts had quieted. Sauron had even promised that if she succeeded this mission, they would finally be allowed to marry.

But did she _want_ to marry him? Legolas had opened up a new world for her, in many aspects.

Gilrael shook off her thoughts as she tore through the woods as fast as her legs would carry her. Legolas and Falluen had a head start and could go faster, since they had no wounds. She hoped with all her might that she could get there in time to warn Roquen and perhaps prevent bloodshed.

* * *

Legolas decided, "I will go down first, and you will follow me a few paces behind. Always stay out of sight. Understand?" Falluen nodded.

The prince pulled an arrow and nocked it as he crept through the bushes. He climbed down the hill as quickly as he dared, and landed softly at the bottom. Glancing up, he couldn't see Falluen, but could detect some movement. Good enough.

He eyed the waterfall. There were huge boulders at the bottom of the falls, washed smoothed by the continuous water. They would be very slippery, but Legolas had confidence in his balancing abilities.

If his intuition was right, he would get very wet and possibly drown. If he was wrong, he would at best make a fool of himself, at worst get seriously injured and die.

Legolas sucked in a quick breath and chose quickly. Etrielle had sacrificed much for him, just as a mother would, and this was the least he could do for her. He had to try.

He took out his flask and drank deeply. It contained magical herbs that, according to the healers, could ease pain instantaneously. The aching and burning sensations died down, enough to be uncomfortable but not unbearable.

Legolas crept forward and crouched in the bushes on the bank of the river. Hearing a sudden rustling, he glanced back, to see Falluen's uncovered brown-haired head with a wild grin and a thumb up. He quickly ducked back down after Legolas glared at him.

The prince took one last deep breath, and stood. He quickly returned the arrow to his quiver and slung his bow into its sheath on his back. He would need all the help to balance he could get.

After thinking, _This is crazy,_ he grabbed hold of a ledge in the cliff and stepped onto the first boulder. Instantly, he was doused under the thundering water and his feet started to slide. Gritting his teeth, he held on with all his upper body strength.

The water pounded his back and roared in his ears, but he had to move on. He took one step to the right on the next boulder, but he would have no cliff to hang on to. It would be a test of his elvenly might or foolishness.


	12. Chapter 12: The Oropherion Caves

The heavy downpour of the falls pounding on his quiver made Legolas' back feel like it was being stabbed by hundreds of little daggers. He squeezed his eyes shut, groaned, and against his logical thinking and survival instinct, he let go of the cliff. He didn't fall in right away, thank Eru, but stood there with the water gushing onto him. It was an intense battle, but Legolas couldn't stand there forever. He had to take a blind step forward.

Hesitantly, he lifted one foot off. Good. Then he leaned forward, hoping to plant it on a boulder. No luck. He was off balance and standing on one slippery foot with thousands of pounds of water pushing him down. His planted foot started to slip and he started to topple forward. With all his strength, he put as much spring as possible into his one foot and leapt forward, arms stretched in front of him and his head tucked as he took a gamble for his life.

Fortunately, Legolas' intuition was right and he wasn't dead, smashed against a rock wall. Unfortunately, he had forgotten to hold his breath as he sprung, and had landed in shallower water than he had dove for.

Letting out all his air, he face-planted into mud with quite a strong force. Quickly as possible, he scrambled to his feet and took a giant gulp of air. As soon as oxygen was restored to his lungs, he scanned in his surroundings alertly.

Legolas found that he was in less than a meter-deep water, not even up to his waist, and with a glance behind discovered he was just centimeters away from landing on some boulders further in behind the falls. Indeed, hidden behind the roaring water was an immense, rocky cavern, with a pool of water leading up to a sandy beach. Beyond, dark tunnels branched off in many directions.

Legolas waded onto the shore and sat on a nearby ledge, suspiciously carved out from the rock like a bench. He pulled off his boots and dumped the water out as he took note of his weapons. Most of his arrows had been washed away, and the few he had left wouldn't be very useful in their drenched state. His sword and twin blades on his back were still intact, and would be useable when wet. Still, he scowled in frustration as he pulled his boots back on. If Roquen was as good a swordsman as Gilrael, he had no hope. Legolas resolved that in the future, he would invest in throwing knives.

Wiping himself clean of mud and squeezing out his hair and tunic as best as he could, he gazed at the beach. It was riddled with footprints, and fortunately for him had a trail of fresh blood. _Arkanil,_ he thought. _What is he doing here?_

When Legolas' clothes were as dry as he could get them, which meant they were damp and soggy, he started for a tunnel that branched off to the right, the trail of blood disappearing into the shadows.

Legolas wished he had a torch. With his elven vision he would be able to navigate the dark tunnels with little difficulty, but he felt uneasy with the limited sight. Any enemy he met would be much better adapted to the darkness than he was.

But suddenly, an arrow whizzed by. He twirled around and caught it in his hand, a trick he had learned long ago. There was a wet, ragged note attached to it, one of Falluen's dark red feathered arrows.

Unrolling the note, Legolas read,

 _ **Fire this back if you are alive. I will wait five minutes, then I will head back to the palace for help.**_

Quickly, he dried it off as best as he could and flung the arrow at a suitable angle. In a few seconds, another arrow whizzed back, signaling that Falluen had got his message and was leaving for the palace.

A bit more relieved, Legolas stuck the arrow in his quiver, slid his bow into its sheath on his back, then pulled out his sword. With a twirl of his sword, he strode into the dark tunnel, senses on high alert for anything and everything.

* * *

The blood trail was barely visible in the gloom, making it nearly impossible to follow, and his going slow. The continuous twisting and occasional staircase did not help.

Every once in a while, Legolas strained his ears for a sound, but heard only the roar of the falls in the distance. He suddenly wondered if he could get lost, then quickly dismissed that idea. There were no tunnels branching off from the one he was following, since it was very narrow and he would have felt one if it existed.

It felt like the Third Age had passed, but certainly it had been less than an hour. Just when he was about to give up and turn around, he saw something up ahead. A door, cleverly camouflaged in the dirt wall.

Legolas tried opening it, but it was, of course, locked. He swore under his breath as he shoved his weight against it. Dust swirled, but it stayed intact. He tried fiddling with the lock, hoping for a combination of some sort, but it clearly needed a key.

"Fresh out of keys,"he muttered. Desperate, he thrust his sword into the wooden door, and slashed and stabbed. All he got was a very beat up but still fully intact and locked door.

A small part of his head chided him. _You're acting like a dwarf would. Slow down and think like an Elf._

Legolas took a deep breath and analyzed the door like he would an archery target. It was short, for a door, just under Legolas' height. The deep grooves in the woof was covered in dirt, concealing it entirely, unless one had a hunter's eye to see through camouflage, which Legolas had.

The lock was at the top right corner, and did not even have a handle. Legolas guessed that when the key was fitted, the door would be able to be pushed open. He examined the keyhole, and was pleased to find that he could see beyond the door. He was not pleased to see absolute darkness.

But just as he withdrew, his eye caught a light. He bent down once more, and in the distance, could make out a dark orange flickering flame. Legolas strained his eyes further, but suddenly leapt back in surprise when a slimy, bloodshot eye glared back at him.

His heart pounded, and he instinctively thrust one of his knife tips into the lock. It came out clean.

Legolas heaved great breaths as he sheathed his knife behind his back and gripped onto his sword. Something about these dark tunnels unnerved him, especially the room beyond the door. If his senses weren't mistaken, it was a room full of Orcs and other monsters, waiting to attack anyone who opened that door. Suddenly Legolas wasn't too eager to force it open.

Head spinning, he laid a hand on the wall to steady himself. The Valar were with him. Part of the wall slid open, revealing yet another tunnel. This one, unlike the one he currently occupied, did not have an empty, forsaken feel and a musty smell of death, but seemed recently occupied and more promising. So Legolas did the natural thing and set off into it.

He had been walking for about ten minutes down the new tunnel when he heard voices. Quickening his pace, he strained his ears.

"-to let Etrielle go! You said half as much already. What is stopping you?" Legolas broke into a run. That voice was definitely Arkanil.

"Her chances are poor. I do not trust the folk out there." Legolas could have sworn the second voice was Roquen's, but he couldn't make the words compute. Roquen was trying to _help_ Etrielle?

The tunnel turned left into a small cave, and Legolas was suddenly flooded with torch light. It was a cozy room, carpeted with a thick rug and lined with bookshelves. Comfortable looking chairs were scattered throughout the room, with a small table to the side that had some papers scattered on the top.

Arkanil was seated in one of these chairs, arms bound to the back, and disarmed, since Legolas could see his weapons tossed onto the floor in the corner.

Roquen stood with his arms folded, swords hanging from either side of his belt. He was tall, taller than Legolas, more muscular and less lithe. Which meant he would be slower, right?

The minute Legolas slid to a stop, Roquen whirled around, two swords pointed to his throat. He grinned with an evil glint in his eyes. "Welcome, Legolas Thrandulion, to the Oropherion Caves."


	13. Chapter 13: The Fight

Legolas was briefly startled to hear his grandfather's name as the title for the caves, but speed was his only hope, so he did not hesitate. Fast as a viper, he ducked and knocked Roquen's swords out of his face. Instantly realizing that he would have a disadvantage with one sword against two, he sheathed his sword and drew his twin blades in a graceful twirl.

Roquen smiled, his dark eyes flashing with mocking amusement. In the light of the torches, his dark brown hair appeared to be accented with deep red streaks. What surprised Legolas was the fact that Roquen's stature and noble features were very similar to a High Elf, or one of the Noldorin.

"Surprised, Legolas?" The prince glared at him. Roquen smirked. "Of course you are. What was it? The name of the caves? My heritage? Or my most helpful captive?" He pointed a sword to Arkanil, who struggled against his bonds.

Legolas stepped forward, and questioned, "How has he helped you, Roquen?"

For a moment, Roquen appeared startled that Legolas knew his name, then seemed to realize that the prince must have eavesdropped somewhere, somehow.

He narrowed his eyes. "You are stealthy, prince, but it will not save you now. Your supposedly trustworthy general has related to me everything I need to know, under threat of death."

Arkanil growled, "Liar!" but Roquen swiftly delivered a powerful blow to his stomach, silencing him.

"Little did he know that he would die anyway," Roquen continued. Legolas whipped his knives in a sudden twirl, but kept his face perfectly serious.

"Why slay him and leave innocent blood on your hands?" he pointed out. "You would rather set him free and have him die in the wild, injured as he is and unable to take care of himself."

Roquen shrugged. "That reason only applies to a conscience-stricken person. I have committed so much worse crimes that to relieve an Elf of his pain would be the least of them." Arkanil groaned, but Legolas, though worried, ignored him.

"And to kill me?" Roquen titled his head. "For your death, my master will reward me handsomely. I will have no regret."

Legolas twirled his knives absently. "Why am I so valuable?" Roquen took a step forward and snarled, "You have a persuasive voice, princeling. Smooth enough to sway even the strongest adherents. You are a danger to my master's cause."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Your _master's_ cause? What about _your_ cause, Roquen? Because if it is not your own, do you really want to be killing people for something you do not even believe?" Roquen looked like he had been run over by a horse, but Legolas wasn't finished.

"Surely your conscience isn't _entirely_ dead. You haven't been in captivity long enough to become as corrupted as Gilrael, and even she has hope. Do you-" "How did you know?" Roquen glared at him. "How did you know I was recently captured?"

Legolas glanced at Arkanil, who was getting paler. He couldn't tarry for long. "You will find that out when you tell me where Etrielle is."

In a flash, Roquen lunged forward, brandishing his swords. "Never, you kidnapper!"

Legolas blocked the attacks and whirled around, slashing down in an X motion. Kidnapper? Did he mean of Gilrael?

Legolas jumped and delivered a kick to Roquen, who cut to the side and slashed towards his head and legs. Legolas bent backwards and slid to the side while trying to cut Roquen in different directions, but knew he was only defending with his agility, and he couldn't keep that up forever. He already had some nasty gashes.

Controlling his breathing as he tried to trip Roquen, Legolas called out, "We can talk this out!" Roquen sneered. "Absolutely not. You would win in a battle of words, therefore I must win in a battle of weapons. I. Will. Kill. You."

As he lunged forward, Legolas did the unexpected. He slid forward, landing on one knee and stabbed into Roquen's gut, pushing him as Roquen gasped and fell to the ground.

Arkanil sat up with wide eyes. "Is he dead?" He said it as if he was anxious that Roquen was not dead.

Legolas grunted and wiped a stream of blood from his cheek. "I do not think so. I didn't stab a fatal spot." Still, he edged towards the fallen Elf cautiously.

Roquen was breathing heavily, hands clutched to his stomach. But when Legolas was in arms-length, Roquen grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down onto a knife hidden in his garments.

Legolas cried out in pain, kicking off of Roquen and rolling to the side. The knife had sliced him in the shoulder, fortunately, but he wouldn't be doing archery any time soon.

Roquen stood up, binding a piece of cloth around his middle much faster than Legolas would have thought possible. By the time he was done, Legolas was standing with a sword in his left hand, his weaker one. He was faint from blood loss, but was not going to let Roquen kill him as he watched.

Roquen brushed a clump of blood from his forehead and advanced with one of his swords, growling in anger. Legolas noticed his left arm bent at an odd angle.

"Greenleaf, you went too far." Legolas narrowed his eyes. "You attacked me when I was seeing if I could help you, Horseman." Roquen yelled and ran up to the prince.

Legolas dove between his legs and rolled, coming up on his feet but feeling like he was about to throw up. As Roquen attacked, Legolas was barely thinking through his fiery pain, since the herbed drink had begun to lose its healing virtue. All his movements were autopilot, the results of his extensive training. Legolas knew that if help did not arrive soon, he would be a dead Elf.

* * *

While Legolas and Roquen were fighting, Arkanil reached for one of Legolas' knives. It had fallen close to his chair, and if he could reach it with his foot…just a few more centimeters…there! As inconspicuously as he could, he dragged the knife towards him. Eyeing the fighters, he saw they were completely focused on each other.

Holding the knife between his feet, Arkanil give it a kick and the knife flew in the air, deftly landing flat on his lap. He bit back a curse as he remembered that his hands were tied behind the chair.

Watching Roquen once more, Arkanil knew he was completely blinded with anger. The general leaned forward and, though he disgusted himself, picked up the handle of the knife with his teeth. Blood was splattered on the blade, so he held his breath.

Sawing through the ropes was long and tiring. Arkanil's jaw ached and his back grew sore, but he had to keep going. Fortunately he was flexible enough so that bending his neck down wasn't too painful.

Eventually, as Roquen roared in pain from a well-aimed punch from Legolas, the ropes were loosened enough so that Arkanil could wriggle out of them. He wouldn't be much help to Legolas with a knee that was then, thanks to Roquen, broken, but he could try to get his bow and a few arrows. Unfortunately, the two fighters were battling it out right in front of them.

* * *

If Legolas hadn't been an elf in the early prime of life, he would be dead. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as blood seeped out of his many cuts. What made things worse was that Roquen seemed fresh and vigorous, even with a stomach wound and more injuries, courtesies of the Woodland prince.

Still, Legolas was as nimble as ever. His life depended on his speed, so as long as he could walk, he would be fast. He had to be.

But in his blind fighting-mode, Roquen cornered him. He had to kick Arkanil's weapons to the side to avoid tripping over them, but to Legolas' chagrin, he was being backed up, with no way of escape. Roquen knew it, and smiled a sickly grin.

"You are so dead, Elf!" he exclaimed gleefully. Legolas glared at him. "Might I remind you that you too are an Elf?" Roquen narrowed his eyes. "Shut up so I can kill you nicely."

Legolas glanced to the side and saw Arkanil notch an arrow to his bow. His eyes swiveled back to Roquen. "Do you want to risk me tackling you to the ground?"

Roquen snarled. "You do not have the strength!" He raised his swords, Legolas readied his weapon for a last defense, and Arkanil drew back his arrow. But a split second before two warriors would have been dead, a commanding voice shouted, "DROP THE WEAPONS **NOW**!"


	14. Chapter 14: The Misunderstanding

Out of the three elves, Roquen was probably the most startled. He dropped his sword onto Legolas' foot in surprise and whirled around as the prince gasped in pain.

"Gilrael? You were supposed-" "I know, but plans change." Gilrael strode into the room and gently pushed Arkanil's bow to point to the ground.

Roquen narrowed his eyes, but turned back to Legolas, who had tossed the sword across the room. "Well, now that you're here, you can help me kill this annoying-"

"Roquen, no," Gilrael sternly ordered. "The prince stays alive."

Roquen frowned. "That would not be wise. Why not kill him while he's injured and weak?" " _You're_ injured and weak," Gilrael pointed out.

Arkanil hollered, "You do realize Legolas is standing right in front of you, do you not?" Both ignored him.

Roquen scowled. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but we'll figure it out when we finish this." He whipped out a knife from the inside of his tunic and stabbed forward wildly, but Legolas had the sense of mind to simply duck. He was very grateful Gilrael did the rest for him.

Grabbing Roquen's shoulders, she pulled him backwards, causing him to lurch unstably and yell in pain because she had dug her fingers into a deep bruise scored by the prince of the Woodland Realm. Legolas slipped out of the corner as Gilrael snatched the knife out of Roquen's grasp and took another one from the inside of his sleeve.

"Now, I advise you to calm yourself so we can talk like civilized beings." She quickly stepped to Legolas, and he could see the worry in her eyes as she scanned him.

"You are very wounded," she observed. Legolas waved a hand dismissively. "Now that you are here, you can tell me where Etrielle is and we can leave."

Gilrael glanced behind at Roquen, who had just finished gulping from his flask. "Ah, you see, I don't know where Etrielle is."

Legolas glared at her. "You _don't_?" Arkanil gasped. "You _don't_?" Roquen looked smug. "She doesn't. Because she's evil."

Gilrael whirled around, clearly infuriated. " _I'm_ evil? Roquen, it's time you learned your place." She raised her bow, but Legolas gently pulled it down. Out of the four warriors, he was the one who would have to act as diplomat. The other three would likely kill each other off.

"Stay, Gilrael." He turned to Roquen. "And I would like to hear why you think Gilrael is evil, why you accused me of being a kidnapper, and what you were telling Arkanil before I arrived."

"I was trying to help Etrielle!" he protested. Arkanil called from his position on the floor, "He was!" Legolas calmly declared, "Then you have nothing to fear from the rest of us who also wish to help her."

"Except from her." Roquen pointed at Gilrael with disgust. "She is a despicable monster, Sauron's favorite, which tells you a lot. It's unfortunate his power was bestowed upon her, otherwise I would have killed her the first chance I got." He glared at her hand, the one with the ring, which she swiftly hid in her cloak.

Legolas frowned. "What do you mean? How does that explain the way you ranted in Gilrael's room?"

Roquen rolled his eyes. "That was an act so Gilrael wouldn't kill me."

Gilrael looked shocked. "Roquen! I would never kill you!"

He grunted. "So you say. Unfortunately, I cannot trust a single word out of your mouth."

Roquen sighed, and turned to the prince. "You see, Legolas, you were right when you said I was but recently captured. It was only a few centuries ago, when I was already grown and mature. Gilrael tried to groom me into an evil Elf like her, to come back and betray our kin, but it didn't work. I had to put on an act, of course, to avoid torture, but I never believed it."

He took a shaky breath. "Still, what I did haunted me. So when this assignment came, I could not for the life of me harm Etrielle."

Legolas demanded, "Then why did you try to kill _me_?"

Roquen pursed his lips. "Oh, um, you see, I knew Gilrael had doubts about my true loyalties, and I knew it was only a matter of time before she, or someone else she ordered, would kill me."

"Not true!" Gilrael insisted.

"And she already assured me that you were, um, completely under her spell. So when you burst in, I had to act all evil so you wouldn't go back and report to her my betrayal. But I also had to kill you, since you were supposedly under her command and therefore evil."

Arkanil summed up, "So it was all a big misunderstanding."

Gilrael peered at Roquen suspiciously. "I told you Legolas was _resisting_ me, not completely under." Roquen shrugged. "You lie a lot. I had to read between the lines."

Legolas glanced at Roquen. "But surely you know Gilrael has changed-"

A horn blew, followed by shouts and roars. Gilrael's face paled, and Roquen groaned. "I'm in no condition to fight!"

Legolas frowned. "Fight what? What's wrong?"

Gilrael nocked an arrow and tossed Roquen a flask. "Drink up. It has _extra_ _powerful_ healing herbs."

That sounded ridiculous, but after gulping it down, he started collecting his weapons with renewed strength. Legolas received another flask from Gilrael, who had produced it from a cabinet in the room and gave yet another one to Arkanil.

However, she ordered the general, "Stay here and rest. The healing tonic will not fix your broken knee." Arkanil was too spent to argue, and collapsed in a cushioned armchair.

After finishing the drink, Legolas felt energy flow through his veins. The pain from his wounds, though none were serious, subsided, and they stopped bleeding. He would have to find out what the herb was.

Gilrael tossed him a quiver of arrows, the contents of which Legolas transferred to his quiver while he asked, "What exactly are we fighting?"

She glanced at him as she tightened her sword belt. "The worst of Dol Guldor. My reinforcements."


	15. Chapter 15: Sacrifices in Battle

The three elves rushed down the hallways, the positions of which Gilrael and Roquen clearly knew by heart. Gilrael explained to Legolas while they ran, "Someone has opened the door at the end of the right tunnel."

Legolas shivered as he remembered the slimy eyeball. "The one with the Orcs in it?" Gilrael looked grim. "And worse things."

As Roquen slid open the wall at the entrance of the tunnel they had previously been running in, Legolas could see the camouflaged wooden door was no more, and flooding the tunnel was a mixture of Orcs, spiders, and Elves, the latter of which would be soon defeated in their small numbers.

Gilrael thrust something into Legolas' hands and jumped into the battle. Startled, the prince stuffed it in a pocket in his tunic and sheathed his bow while pulling out his knives. Arrows would be no use in the tight space.

The minute Legolas began fighting, he realized what Gilrael meant by 'worse things'. Besides the usual nasty Orc, there were giant spiders, spawn of Ungoliant, mother of all spiders. Legolas had fought such creatures in the very south of the Greenwood, and had discovered how unpleasant it was to be wrapped in sticky spider webs. Oh, how his father lectured him about the state of his hair, of all things!

His experience, though limited, proved useful. The spider's outer shell was too strong to pierce, but in between their legs and especially their bellies were soft.

After a while, however, Legolas grew worried. The only reason why he wasn't dead or injured was because the spiders seemed to only want to get out of the tunnels, not kill the Elves. The Orcs, what do you know, were confused.

Eventually, Legolas realized they were taking orders from Gilrael, who was killing them relentlessly. Most, he saw, thought they were being punished for something they did wrong, so their attacks were slow and without purpose. They were killed off swiftly.

However, more spiders kept swarming from the treacherous wooden door. Legolas caught a glimpse of Gilrael, and slashed towards her. He yelled, "Have a plan?"

Her face was streaked with Orc blood, but he thought she still looked gorgeous. "Yes, but don't follow me!"

To Legolas' horror, she slipped past the wooden door to the cave beyond. Roquen appeared next to him, casually wrestling a spider like he did that every day. "Don't worry about her, prince. These guys are afraid of her."

Still, Legolas was worried. Especially when he heard a loud explosion that rocked the tunnels, causing several Elves to cry out in worry.

Roquen shouted, "Move out! Go, go, go!" Both spiders and Elves scrambled away, down the tunnel as the walls shook. Roquen glared at Legolas. "Move it, prince, or you'll get crushed!"

He stayed where he was. "What about Gilrael? I can't leave her!" Roquen started running away. "Fine. Be heroic and get killed." He dashed off as Legolas sprinted in the opposite direction.

He knew the tunnels would cave in any minute, but he would never live with himself if he didn't find out what happened to Gilrael.

In the cave, dead bodies were scattered around the edges, as if blown away from an explosion in the center. It smelled horrible, but Legolas wasn't paying attention. He scanned the cave quickly, and saw no signs of Gilrael. He did, however, see a staircase leading up in the back of the cave, and ran toward it.

Suddenly, a voice cried out, "Watch out!" Legolas whirled around with his knives sheathed and his bow drawn and nocked as a troll barreled towards him. A second later the troll roared in pain as an arrow pierced through one of its eyes and another one fired through its neck. But Legolas lost focus as a sudden scream drew his eyes to the side.

A pale orc with unbelievable blue eyes had Gilrael under sword point, with her own sword. She widened her eyes, and Legolas twirled around just in time. The unfortunate troll tripped and landed in a heap.

The orc scowled in disgust. "Trolls. So clumsy." He turned to Legolas as the entrance to the cave was closed as rocks crumbled down. "Mhmm, prince of the Woodland Realm. Not very impressive."

Gilrael glared at him. "For your information, Azog, these tunnels are going to collapse in three, two,-" She stopped short, surprised as the shaking stopped. Azog smirked. "Only the tunnels in the front collapse. The halls in the back are quite secure. You should know that, Lieutenant."

She huffed. "Formal now, are we? So get my sword out of my face!"

Azog tilted his head, and pressed it on her neck. Legolas' blood boiled.

"I would, and gladly, if I was not concerned. I saw you killing your own troops, my lady, and you destroyed untold others in your…explosion."

Her glare could wither rocks. "Sauron will not be pleased if you kill me. As a matter of fact, he will be so angry that all of Middle Earth will know that Azog the Stupid was dead."

Azog smiled sickly. "Ah, yes. I know. Which is why I will have _you_ kill this princeling. If you truly are loyal and simply made an impulsive mistake, that is easily forgiven, and you would have no problem offing this Elf."

He twisted her sword and handed it to her. She took it firmly, and strode to Legolas. He raised his bow, but Azog let out a cruel laugh. "Fight all you want, prince, but Gilrael has more strength than you know."

Legolas growled, "My name is _not_ prince."

He glanced at Gilrael, who looked murderous. Had she been lying all along? Had her final goal been to kill him all along? Unfortunately, he could only wait. He knew that Sauron could possess her if she was willing, and he would have no chance. Especially since the magic healing tonic was beginning to fade.

Gilrael raised her sword as Azog stepped forward eagerly. But as she swung and Legolas tensed to duck, she over-spun and slashed Azog's face. He howled, and snarled as he drew a sword from his side.

"You will regret this, lady!"

Azog was taller and bigger than both the elves, but working together they managed to cut up the pale orc quite well. Until the troll started to rise once more.

Azog yelled, "Kill them! Kill the Elves!" The troll looked confused, probably wondering why he was supposed to kill his master, especially as she cried out, "Stay where you are! Hold! Otherwise I'll throw you into the lava pit!"

But the troll stepped forward, hefting his club. Gilrael whispered to Legolas in Sindarin, "Fight Azog. I'll try to convince the troll not to attack us."

She ran toward the troll as Legolas fired an arrow into Azog's shoulder. The Orc was good, but he wasn't nearly as fast as the Elf.

Legolas could hear Gilrael entreat the troll to sit like a good troll, but it wanted some action, apparently, and roared in defiance as a scream sliced through the air.

The prince whirled around, and saw her body laying limp and motionless several meters away. Azog attacked from behind, but Legolas was mad. Very mad.

With a piercing cry, he sheathed his bow and drew his knives.

Azog couldn't take a breath before he found his face cut up in neat slashes. Roaring in pain, he lifted his sword, but it was difficult to keep up. For the first time, the pale orc saw an Elf warrior revealed in his fury, bright blue eyes flashing with hatred. There was going to be no stopping him.

Azog shouted, "Troll! Attack this Elf!"

The troll, hungry for blood, obeyed eagerly. Legolas was forced to abandon his knives for his bow as Azog slunk away, down a side tunnel.

The dim-witted troll was defeated quite easily with a few well-aimed arrows and an insult or two. But as it collapsed in a giant, smelly heap, the walls of the cavern shook.

Legolas' eyes snapped to a support column, quivering and shaking. Rocks began to crumble down from the ceiling, the start of a great collapse, due to, Legolas knew, the work of Azog, somewhere in the tunnels.

He sprinted to Gilrael, who was still lifeless, eyes closed shut. Without a thought, Legolas lifted her slender body easily and gazed ahead. The staircase would be his only hope.

Rushing forward as the ceiling began to fall, he dodged chunks of rocks and sprang forth with all his might into the stairwell, climbing up a few steps for good measure. Just in time.

As Legolas looked back, the entrance to the cavern was blocked by boulders. The way ahead was dark, the most heavy, dense darkness Legolas had ever known. His elven eyes could make out the staircase leading ever higher, up and up, into more gloom. It would not be an easy climb.

But gazing down at Gilrael, Legolas knew his effort would be worth it. Not just for Etrielle, whom he hoped had survived the tunnel collapse, but for the maiden in his arms, whose true noble, selfless spirit had begun to rise out of the depths of the corrupted one.


	16. Chapter 16: Hopeless Wanderings

The staircase was narrow, but wide enough for the length of Gilrael as she lay in Legolas' arms, knocked out cold.

The prince climbed on for ages, legs burning and arms aching. Gilrael was light, yes, but her weapons made her heavier. The darkness made the going harder, and occasionally Legolas tripped on an especially high step.

Finally, he encountered a crossroads. Straight ahead were more steps leading up, but to the right was a tunnel, and to the left were steps leading down. In the center was a flat platform, tiled with smooth stones. Legolas decided he would rest there.

Laying Gilrael on the ground as gently as he could, Legolas collapsed next to her, and while trying to control his breathing, he took stock of their situation.

It was fortunate they both had several weapons, with practically full quivers, since who knew what was lurking in the shadows.

As for food, being elves, they wouldn't need very much, but in their current injured state, food would help with the pain and exhaustion.

Water they would need more desperately, but Legolas' flask was about half-full, and he didn't search Gilrael for hers.

That left navigating the caves and light, which Legolas could produce if he had wood, but was unfortunately not available. He was also certain that Gilrael could lead the way out, but she was still unconscious. Or not.

Legolas turned to her wearily as she gasped, "My back."

Immediately he realized that he had forgotten to take her quiver off, and as a result, it had impaled itself into her back. Kneeling beside her, he managed to unclasp it and gently pull it out.

Gilrael took a deep breath, her head resting in Legolas' lap. Then her eyes opened, staring up into his blue ones.

She managed, "You're not dead."

Legolas brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "No, and neither are you. I was worried."

Gilrael smiled. "You're sweet." She struggled to get up, and Legolas helped her sit, resting against the wall.

After a moment, Legolas asked, "Are you much injured? Does anywhere hurt?"

Gilrael sighed, and pressed a hand to the side of her head. "Headache. Nothing's bleeding, but it's quite bruised."

Legolas frowned. "Do you have some, um, healing water?"

She checked her belt, and nodded. "Two flasks. One is magical, the other is usual water. Both are full. What about you?"

Legolas sighed. "One. Magical, but less than yours. Half full."

Gilrael suddenly, to Legolas' surprise, whipped out a torch, and had it lit in a few minutes. The prince's mouth dropped.

"You are prepared for everything!"

Gilrael shook her head, and handed the torch to Legolas, who held it aloft. "I often find myself in dark places, so I always have a torch on hand, just in case." She sipped some magical water, as Legolas took a gulp as well.

Looking around, Gilrael frowned. "You carried me all the way here?"

Legolas nodded, securing his flask. "I couldn't just stop in the staircase. This was the first resting area. Do you know where we are? Do you know how to get out?"

Gilrael glared at him. "No, and no! How am I supposed to? Your grandfather built this when your _father_ was young!"

Legolas frowned. "Then how did you know your way around?"

Gilrael rolled her eyes. "Roquen scouted out the front areas as a fox or whatever, and mapped it out. I studied it, came here, knew my way around. But up here, way in the back, I have absolutely no idea."

Legolas mused, "So my grandfather, Oropher, built this. Why did he do that?"

Gilrael raised an eyebrow. "I'm surprised you don't know about it, but Thranduil surely does. You know how Oropher moved a bunch of Sindarin and Silvan elves to the Greenwood, before the War of the Last Alliance, and built a fortress in the mountains to the north."

"Yes, I know that. I live in it," Legolas impatiently informed her.

Gilrael smiled. "But you didn't know that while he built the palace/fortress, he also built a secret, hidden fortress behind the waterfall. Should the main palace be attacked or destroyed, Oropher would have a second one, a huge one, in reserve."

Legolas nodded in satisfaction. "My grandfather was smart."

Gilrael rolled her eyes. "And got himself killed by being impulsive and not following Gil-galad's orders."

Legolas said nothing, and looked down. Gilrael immediately realized her mistake, and felt terrible.

She laid a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Legolas. I shouldn't have been so mean, especially after all you've done for me."

The prince glanced at her. "There is nothing to apologize for. I suppose my grandfather _was_ slightly impulsive, and you have recently escaped the grips of evil itself."

Gilrael shook her head. "That is no excuse."

Legolas smiled. "See, you are getting better already. Now, we need a plan to get out of here, preferably with Etrielle. Do you have any idea where she is?"

Gilrael frowned. "Roquen was supposed to bring her to Dol Guldor tonight, but I don't know why he was still here."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "He told me he was actually on the good side, trying to help Etrielle. Apparently, he thought he would do that by keeping her out of my reach. He called me a kidnapper. And, he said he was pretending to be evil so you wouldn't kill him."

Gilrael stared at him. "Roquen is a liar. He is one-hundred percent against you."

Legolas frowned. "But he said he was acting-"

"He wasn't. He was acting by pretending he was acting." Gilrael shook her head. "Why else would he have such dumb logic? Keeping Etrielle away from you because you're a kidnapper? Don't be ridiculous."

Legolas sighed. "I'm afraid I don't _quite_ follow. Wasn't Roquen recently captured? How could he be that…twisted? Acting like he was acting?"

Gilrael pursed her lips. "Roquen is like that because…I corrupted him."

Legolas stared at her. " _You_?"

Gilrael nodded, and shifted slightly to the side, looking down. She couldn't face those pure, blue eyes. "S-Sauron gave me the, um, power to, well, charm people. He kind of altered my beauty and aura to make people want to trust me, listen to me, do things for me."

"That's what you did to me."

Gilrael nodded slightly. "It works best on male elves, but also on weak Men. Only the strongest, purest, most noble Men won't fall."

Legolas pursed his lips, but Gilrael glanced at him. "Don't feel bad. You are very strong and noble, Legolas. You fought me and won."

Legolas shook his head. "Barely. You give me too much credit. But what about female elves, and women?"

Gilrael sighed. "Roquen. He would charm the females."

"To infiltrate the free peoples of Middle Earth, and work about their destruction," Legolas figured out.

Gilrael looked away. "I don't want to talk about it."

Legolas stood, and helped her up. "Well, if you don't know your way around, we'll have to look ourselves. There must be a back entrance."

Gilrael pursed her lips. "The waterfall _was_ the back entrance. The front entrance was never told."

Legolas cheerfully declared, "Then we'll search for the front entrance! Now, which way do we go? You choose."

Gilrael smiled at him, then peered at the stairs going up, tunnel going right, and steps leading down.

"Stairs. They have to stop at some point. Hopefully level ground."

Unfortunately, they soon curved left and dipped down. Legolas held his torch aloft, but they could see nothing ahead but darkness.

"Do you have any idea how big the halls are?" Legolas asked they walked down the staircase.

Gilrael sighed. "None. For all I know, they could extend far underground and up north."

They continued wandering around until Gilrael declared the magical drink was wearing off and her head was pounding.

They decided to stop in a little alcove of rocks with ledges in the wall for a place to lay down. As he set the torch in a nook to cast light around the area, Legolas remarked, "This doesn't seem much use as a fortress if there aren't any provisions or water."

As Gilrael collapsed onto the floor, she said, "I'm sure there are, further in." She pressed a hand to her temple and winced.

Legolas moved next to her, frowning. "I am not a healer, but I should look at that and make sure it's not a wound or infected."

Gilrael shrunk away from him. "N-no, I'm fine. Please, don't bother about me."

Legolas smiled. "I just saved your life, and I'm not going to bother about you? I care more about you than that. Now, let me see it."

Reluctantly, she allowed him to part her hair. Legolas closed his eyes as the sight. There was a long cut, not deep, fortunately, but it had been bleeding, and there was dried blood around it.

He lowered himself next to her. "Gilrael, I need to wash that."

She glared at him. "Do you have any idea how much that will hurt?"

Legolas looked amused, which he saw annoyed her. "You sound like an elfling. Now, I must wash it with the magical tonic, otherwise the blood will become infested and the flaky, sticky infection that will develop-"

"Alright, Legolas! I get it. No need to disgust me further."

The prince grinned, and took out Gilrael's magical flask. It was half-full, and he used all of it.

Gilrael did not yell or scream, but she grabbed onto Legolas' leg so hard he thought _he_ might scream.

Finally, he braided her hair in a way so it wouldn't rest on the cut. "It doesn't look fashionable, but it will do it's duty."

Gilrael rolled her eyes. "I don't care how I look. Ooh."

Legolas massaged her head gently, releasing the pressure on her head. "Like it?"

Gilrael closed her eyes. "That feels so much better. The pounding…is gone."

The prince sat back, eyes twinkling as Gilrael smiled. "I thought you weren't a healer. Where did you learn how to do that?"

Legolas shrugged. "The washing is common sense. The massage, well, I only did what I what have wanted had my head been cut."

Gilrael's face suddenly became solemn, and she turned her back to him, staring at the blackness beyond. She murmured, "I don't deserve this."

Legolas noticed her twisting her ring. Was she being oppressed by it? Was it similar to a Ring of Power?

He laid a hand on her shoulder, and softly told her, "Everyone needs a good friend, whether you deserve one or not. It is my honor to be that friend for you, Gilrael."

She said nothing, and Legolas withdrew, resting against a boulder. Shortly after, she climbed onto the flat stone ledge and took out a blanket, seemingly from her cloak. Legolas gaped, but she glanced behind him sadly.

"It is no miracle. I have a bag." Without another word, she lay down onto the blanket, her back toward the tunnel and the prince.

Legolas couldn't sleep, but he didn't want to. He had to be alert for any dangers, anything that could threaten their safety. And he had to figure out how they would get out of the caves.

He felt responsible for Gilrael's safety. If it weren't for him, they wouldn't have been in that predicament. And he didn't know how he would cope if Gilrael didn't make it out safely.

Their first priority, of course, was water. They were down to one flask, which might last another day. Sooner or later they would need _some_ type of food. Legolas hoped Gilrael had something in that bag of hers, and he wishfully wanted lembas bread. Unfortunately, it wasn't likely she had that.

Legolas sat with his bow in his hand for hours, monitoring the tunnels, gazing at Gilrael, and ears alert for any sound other than the elleth's soft, even breathing.

Eventually, as he thought it must be morning in the world above, he heard a sound. The more he strained his ears, the more certain he was that he had been hearing it all night. But he could not quite make out what it was.

Legolas stood and crept to Gilrael. He hated to wake her, but they had to get moving. Laying a hand on her shoulder, he whispered, "Echuio."

* * *

Gilrael had a fitful dream, which was common. Sauron was in it, which was also common. And he was pleased with her, which was very uncommon.

"You did well, my dear. Convinced the prince you have turned from your evil ways? Very clever."

Gilrael stared at his handsome face, hating to look at it but fearing what he would do if she lowered her gaze. "M-my lord is too kind."

Sauron smiled, his dark eyes glimmering. "You have fulfilled my wishes excellently, unlike that fool Roquen." He scoffed. "I should have given _you_ the gift, but no matter."

The Dark Lord straightened from his position on the throne. "Your next task, dear one, is to stay there with the elves and gain their trust. It may take centuries, but I am patient. In the meantime, my strength grows. My shadow lengthens over Arda. The giant spiders are spawning here in Dol Guldor. Goblins are repopulating the Misty Mountains in countless numbers.

"All this thanks to you, fair one. If you succeed in this task, acting as my spy for the elves, you will be rewarded. You will rule by my side as Queen over Middle Earth, and none will oppose you. You will have all your heart desires.

"I will stay away from you for quite a length of time, not interfering with your mission. You will be on your own, Gilrael, but you are more than capable. I trust you.

"Never let that prince sway you, my dear. You must stand strong and oppose the enemy. Remember what they did to you. Remember what happened to your parents."

But before Sauron could say another word, Gilrael jumped, startled, as a clear, bright voice called, "Echuio!" She was dazed, Sauron's silky voice still ringing in her ears. But again, it called, "Gilrael! Awake!"

Her soul stirred, responding to its refreshing tone rather than Sauron's sleepy one.

Gilrael's eyes fluttered open, and there she saw Legolas' sparkling blue eyes, his cheerful face shining radiantly in the light of the torch which seemed magnified. His skin glowed with youthful beauty, and his smile warmed her soul. _One of the Valar,_ she thought. _I'm still dreaming._

But it was no dream. As soon as Legolas saw she was awake, he stepped back quickly. Gilrael slipped out of her rocky ledge and dragged her blanket with her.

Legolas carried his bow and torch, and smiled widely. "Mae govannen, Gilrael. Not much of a morning in these dark caves, but a new day brings new hope. How are you feeling?"

She tucked away her blanket in her bag, and sipped from her regular water flask. Her head felt much better, but still throbbed slightly. And her dream had shaken her greatly.

So Gilrael could only answer vaguely, causing Legolas to raise an eyebrow. But to her relief, he didn't pry.

"I heard a strange sound, so I thought we should follow it." Gilrael nodded. "That's fine." She dragged her feet after the prince with low spirits.

Gilrael felt like the worst fool in Middle Earth. Only a few days ago she had been the feared and respected general of Sauron's armies, powerful and confident, with-

"Were you really respected?" Legolas suddenly broke into her thoughts.

She stared at his back. "Um, of course. I am Sauron's favorite."

Legolas glanced behind at her. "Because I'm sure the orcs _feared_ you rather than respected. Men _fear_ you rather than respect you. Even the elves-"

"Legolas! Please, no." The prince stopped and turned. His eyes were full of care and concern, but he was stern.

"Azog was willing to injure you. The only reason he didn't kill you was because he feared what Sauron would do to him."

Gilrael glared at him. "Then why does Sauron like me?"

Legolas stared at her. "He doesn't like you. He is using you as his tool. Until you realize that and forsake your old life and rank, you will never change into the person you really are. Your true self. You don't have to hide and pretend anymore, Gilrael."

He turned around and continued marching down the tunnel as Gilrael slowly followed him, feeling like she had been split in half. She knew Legolas was right, but she was convinced there was no way she could redeem the things she had done in her past. Gilrael was a hopeless case.

They wandered on for a while until Legolas suddenly stopped. "Do you hear that?"

Gilrael strained her ears, and heard the sound of rushing water. She thought she had heard it a while back, but it had faded. Now, it was louder than ever.

They exchanged excited glances, and rushed forward. Their flasks had run out of water, and with their wounds, they were quite thirsty.

The tunnel they had been traveling down opened up, and there, clearly deep underground, were two rivers. One flowed from the left into another one going straight ahead, parallel to the elves. They met in a swirling whirlpool, roaring ahead into the darkness.

Legolas gazed at the river to the left, frowning. "If my eyes are not mistaken, that is the Enchanted River." Gilrael stared ahead, and saw its dark waters.

"Yes. This is the point where the Enchanted River meets the Forest River. I never knew it was underground."

Legolas looked excited. "I did. The elves don't frequent these halls very often, but it's known among the higher levels of my father's court. I myself have never been here, but I'm sure there's an exit nearby."

But suddenly, a scream pierced through the air. It was female. Legolas darted forward, but Gilrael pulled him back. "Wait! You must be careful. Sound travels differently underground, especially in these tunnels."

Legolas wrenched away from her. "That must be Etrielle! She must be in trouble!"

The prince took off into a sprint, and Gilrael had no choice but to follow him. She hoped Roquen was long gone. If he found out she was no longer evil, Sauron might be warned, and she would be dead.

But for the time being, she hoped Legolas didn't get them lost all over again.


	17. Chapter 17: The Kidnapping Diversion

Legolas' heart was thumping wildly. After all that time, all that effort, Etrielle might be found, but in need of rescue! He hoped against hope that she was still alive, and not fatally injured.

The cries grew louder, and Legolas was about to cut to a tunnel to the right when Gilrael yanked him back. "Not that way. This way."

She led the way down a tunnel to the left, and as the screams increased in volume, Legolas knew she was right. He was grateful her experience with tunnels proved useful.

They emerged into yet another cave, very large and tall, with large boulders and rocks scattered throughout. The only entrance to it was the one they had just passed through.

Both Legolas and Gilrael gasped at the sight they saw.

A young elleth, barely more than an elfling, was screaming from an alcove of rocks high up, very near to the ceiling. She had deep red hair, tinged with brown, and piercing green eyes, like the leaves of a tree.

She was screaming because a giant troll was banging the bottom of the ledge on which she was standing, and it was shaking, with small rocks and dirt crumbling.

But out in the middle of the cave was the strangest battle both of the elves had ever seen.

Both fighters were continuously changing shape, from one animal to another, the briefly elven, and back to another animal.

Gilrael widened her eyes. "Roquen…"

Legolas stared at the sight. "E-Etrielle?" Indeed, it was. Whereas Roquen preferred changing into beasts like giant spiders, Wargs and bats, Etrielle transformed into elegant creatures like a wolf, owl, and leopard.

But for a moment, she morphed into elven form, fighting off a Warg with two long swords. "Don't just stand there with your mouths open! Fight!"

The elves rushed into battle, Gilrael tackling Roquen, and Legolas bounding to the troll, which quickly lost interest for the elfling and turned eagerly to the prince.

This troll was much smarter than the other one, bigger, stronger, and, in Legolas' opinion, uglier. It had clumps of fat hanging off of its body, and slime dripping out of his nose that made Legolas' stomach churn. He was careful to avoid stepping on them, and finally, out of sheer annoyance, fired an arrow straight into the leaking nostril.

The troll roared in pain, and Legolas noticed the elfling press herself against the wall and cower in fear. He had to get up there and bring her to the ground before she panicked and wouldn't cooperate.

The Sinda leaped onto the wall and climbed up nimbly. The troll recovered and tried to smash Legolas with his club, but the prince simply swung out of the way and continued climbing. The smashing caused the elfling to crouch down and cover her head.

Finally, Legolas reached the top and grabbed over the 'railing' and was about to pull himself up, but found his foot was trapped in a nook. He swore, and looked back in horror as the troll broke into a fleshy grin and reared back to crush Legolas flat.

Gilrael was surprised Etrielle had managed to stay alive, and even more that she had scored several slashes on Roquen. But Gilrael knew it wouldn't last, and that if she were to save the maid, she would have to kill or injure Roquen severely, which she had no desire to do.

He had no hope fighting her as an animal or beast of any kind, so he morphed into his elven form. "My, how the tables have turned. Did the prince bewitch you instead of vice versa?"

Gilrael wanted to glare at him, but her task was to try to undo the corruption she had cast upon him. "Roquen, think of your childhood. Think of your life before you got captured, before you met me. What would you have defined your morals as? Virtues? Vices? What was evil to you?"

She had struck a nerve. Roquen stopped his blow midair, staring at her with eyes tinged with disbelief, his mouth moving, but with no words coming. Gilrael held his gaze for a moment with hopeful, loving eyes, but suddenly, Etrielle screamed, "LAIQUA!"

Gilrael whipped to Legolas and with wide eyes, shot the troll in the spine with two arrows. It roared and growled, withdrawing from the wall and arching its back in pain.

Roquen whispered, "Imladris. Rivendell. That was my home."

Gilrael fired an arrow into the troll's arm, and it glared at her murderously.

"You took my life from me," Roquen accused her.

The troll swung its club to Gilrael, but Etrielle turned into a giant eagle and flew into its face.

"You turned me into a mangled beast!" Roquen lunged forward with two swords, and, caught off guard, Gilrael suffered a swipe to her arm and had her bow cut in half. Just in time, she pulled two swords from their sheaths and blocked, but knew with Roquen's superior strength and fury, she would not last.

Legolas shut his eyes, preparing for death. But a few seconds passed and he heard the troll roar in pain. His eyes opened and his turned his neck, and saw Gilrael firing arrows into the troll, effectively saving his life.

He turned back and tried to release his foot by pulling himself up, but there was no way to do it without falling to his death. Legolas tossed his bow down, where it landed near the elfling, who yelped and looked at him with wide, frightened emerald eyes.

Legolas smiled good-naturedly. "Hello, darling. There's nothing to be afraid of." The troll ranted, and the elfling shrunk back.

Legolas glanced behind. He had to get in the platform and help the elfling down before the troll returned.

"What is your name?" He felt foolish making small-talk with an elfling while stuck tens of meters above the ground, but he had to gain her trust.

"T-Tauriel," she whispered. Legolas grinned. "What a beautiful name! I am Legolas."

Tauriel's eyes widened, though he hadn't known that was possible. "The prince?"

Legolas smiled. "Yes, and I'm here to save you." "You're stuck," she pointed out.

"That's why I need you to come over here, peer down, and take a look at what's keeping my foot in place. Could you do that for me?"

Tauriel hesitated, but she gave him a shy smile. "I'll do more than that." She suddenly ran forward, grabbed his hands, and pulled back with all her might. Which turned out to be greater than Legolas had expected.

With a twist and a yank, his foot was free, and he was able to swing his legs over. As he picked up his bow, Legolas grinned. "Excellent work, Tauriel! You would make a wonderful warrior."

She smiled back, but her eyes caught something, and she retreated back to the wall in fear. Legolas turned, and saw a giant eagle swooping into the troll's face, aiming for his eyes. It certainly was a frightening sight, but Legolas had an idea.

The prince approached the elfling. "Do you trust me?"

Tauriel stared at him in disbelief, as if thinking, I just met you. But she nodded slowly. "You are the prince."

"Good. Would you trust a friend of mine I trust with my life?"

Again, Tauriel nodded slowly. "I suppose." Legolas took a deep breath. This would sound very strange. "Well, that eagle is my friend. It is going to fly over here, and you can either climb onto its back or I will lift you onto it. Alright?"

Tauriel shook her head fiercely. "I am not riding an eagle. What if I fall?"

"You won't fall," Legolas promised.

The elfling looked at him suspiciously. "Have you ever ridden an eagle?"

"Yes," Legolas lied. If he told her the truth, she would never get on the eagle, and she would likely get injured or even die.

Tauriel pursed her lips, but nodded. "I-if you don't mind, I'd like you to lift me." Her face had paled considerably when he mentioned riding an eagle, and Legolas wondered if she was afraid of heights.

"I'm afraid of heights," she explained. Legolas smiled. "There is nothing to fear."

He turned as she mumbled, "Easy for you to stay."

Etrielle was on the ground in elven form, massaging her arm, but looking up at Legolas. He motioned for her to turn into an eagle and fly up as best as he could, though he felt very foolish.

Etrielle grit her teeth, and nodded. Shortly after, she flew up as a giant eagle, but Legolas noticed one wing was…amiss. He shook the thought off as he sheathed his bow and turned to Tauriel.

As Etrielle hovered near the ledge, Legolas gently lifted the elfling up and placed her on the eagle. Tauriel's ragged dress ruffled in the breeze, which was more like a draft of wind. Which…wasn't… supposed… to exist in a cave.

Legolas scanned the ceiling, and saw a round hole carved out. Wind was blowing through it, and he heard squeaking. Mice? No. Bats.

Etrielle swooped down as Tauriel screamed the whole way. The elfling landed safely, however, and ran to hide in a corner. Legolas' attention fixed on the troll, who had given up on the elleth and faced the prince for revenge.

Legolas' eyes briefly flitted to Gilrael, who was locked in battle with Roquen, and crying. He was worried, but turned back to the business of getting down the platform. But then he realized he should use his height to his advantage.

Whipping out his bow, he fired arrow after arrow directly into the troll's face. It stumbled forward, right into Legolas' outstretched sword, which pierced its neck. Its death was loud, and the dead body toppled forward into the rocks. Legolas jumped onto the troll's back and slid down, tucking his head into a roll at the bottom.

When he stood, he saw Etrielle laying on her side on the ground, groaning in pain. Gilrael and Roquen were still going at it with swords, and the elleth was still sobbing but holding her own skillfully. Tauriel was in the corner, hidden mostly by darkness and rocks. She would be safe.

Just as Legolas was about to help Gilrael, the squeaking he had heard intensified into screeches. He glanced up, and his jaw dropped as hundreds of bats swooped into the cave, swirling through the air, a cloud of black so thick Legolas could barely see through it.

The rapid flapping and ruffling of their wings combined with their screeches were so loud, Legolas could hear nothing else.

Whipping out his sword, he slashed and stabbed in the air, slaying many bats but countless more remained. The bats began to get annoyed, and some swooped down onto the prince. He had no choice but to try and shake them off and kill them as best as he could.

But fortunately, the onslaught didn't last long. Their numbers slowly dwindled as the bats flew out, and Legolas could see around the cave again. Gilrael and Roquen were, to his surprise, battling much like before, though both were scratched and both were crying. It would have been funny had not Legolas suddenly discovered Etrielle was nowhere to be seen, and his stomach dropped as Tauriel, too, was missing.

It was almost as if someone purposely released the bats to provide a cover to snatch the two elleths away unnoticed.


	18. Chapter 18: Stuck - in Paradise

The one thing on Legolas' mind as he decided to run after the bloody trail of the kidnapper was: Not _again_. Etrielle was missing, and she had been found, and now she was missing again, along with an elfling.

If Azog had snatched Tauriel and his beloved mentor, Legolas would kill him. Well, he would kill the orc anyway, but he would enjoy Azog's death more if…what was he _thinking_? He wouldn't enjoy anyone's death, be it orc or Sauron himself. Okay, maybe he would enjoy Sauron's death a little, but generally, death was no cause to rejoice about.

As Legolas ran through the tunnels, eyes scanning the ground for tracks and drops of blood, he wondered if leaving Gilrael was a mistake. Roquen could turn into any animal or beast he wanted, and he might overpower the elleth, who already had a head wound.

Legolas sprinted down tunnels, skirted around boulders, and flew through caves until he realized the bloody trail had stopped, and he had no idea where he was. The prince jogged ahead, but there was still no sign of blood.

Legolas' head grew faint, but he shook it off. _Think, Legolas. You are_ not _going to get yourself lost._

He cleared his head, and focused on his senses. Thick darkness lay ahead in the tunnel. Behind him was still, as if the tunnels were holding its breath. Above, he heard a dripping.

Gazing up at the ceiling, Legolas narrowed his eyes. If he listened very carefully, he could hear breathing, almost inaudible. Then he heard a rustle, and before he could comprehend it, a great force thrust into Legolas' chest, and he was knocked to the ground, sucking air in.

"GAAR!" Something struck down, but Legolas rolled out of the way. He leapt up and whipped out his sword, its silver flashing in the dark.

Peering ahead, Legolas narrowed his eyes. "Azog. Where is Etrielle?"

The pale orc grinned. "Safe and sound, princeling. I'd think you would be more worried about the elfling."

Legolas twirled his sword and took a step forward. "Where is she?"

Azog's eyes glimmered. "Who? The traitor or the young one?"

Legolas glared at him. "What are you talking about? Etrielle is not a traitor!"

Azog cackled. "How little you know, princeling! Quite soon, Etrielle will unleash the cavalry of death, _your_ death. And the elfling will be groomed into a nice, young orcling."

"NEVER!" Legolas swung his sword, but Azog merely side stepped, clucking his tongue. "My, how you fail at swordsmanship."

Which probably wasn't very wise. The Sinda threw his sword down and nocked three arrows, unleashing all of them toward the orc. One missed, but two hit him in the chest, and he roared in fury as yet another one pierced his ear.

Yet, he still taunted, "Playing with me now, princeling? Why not just kill me?"

Legolas grit his teeth. "Where is Tauriel?"

Azog smiled, and stopped dodging. "Ah, I see. You're not going to kill me until you know where the elfling is."

Legolas pulled back an arrow. "I might kill you if I find you are uncooperative."

Azog suddenly ran, limping and blood seeping from his calf, Legolas noticed, to the side of the tunnel, and hollered, "NOW!"

A rumble sounded from the depths of the tunnel, and Legolas whirled around, staring at it in confusion, not being able to comprehend what he was hearing. Until Azog shouted, "So long, princeling! You're horsemeat now!" and disappeared.

Legolas only had time to sheath his sword and bow before a stampede of wild, mad horses crashed down on him. At first, with all the dust being kicked up and the loud neighing, the prince tripped and floundered in the sea of equestrians, but his quick eyes scanned ahead, and caught sight of a grand, cream stallion.

It had no bridle or reins, as none of the horses had, but as it galloped past him, Legolas thrust out his arms, grabbed the stallion's mane, vaulted himself up into the air, and with a final twirl, landed heavily on its back, though ungracefully and very painfully in his lower areas. He would have to practice that stunt.

The stallion had absolutely no desire to be controlled, but Legolas was a skilled, elven rider, who had absolutely no desire to be tossed back into the stampede. Leaning down, he whispered into the horse's ear, and guided it gently with his hands and voice alone.

As Legolas rode, he noticed all the horses were fine breeds, majestic with bristling muscles and smooth coats, comparable to the ones of Rohan, which was famous for its horses. Yet Legolas saw in their eyes madness, which he knew was because they had been in the dark without exercise for too long. He was left to wonder how they could keep their muscle if they had been staying in one place for long.

After some time, they finally galloped into a large cavern with many tunnels branching off. As the horses took off down the tunnels, no doubt searching for the light of the world above, Legolas slowed his stallion down to a stop, gazing around.

Other than the echoing of distant hooves and the horse's heavy breathing, there was not a single sound. Legolas slipped down and ordered the horse, "Hara." It gladly obeyed and lowered itself, not wanting to move another step. Legolas sighed. He would be stuck for a while.

The horse neighed, but Legolas shook his head sorrowfully. "No grass. Sorry."

He sat next to the stallion and stroked its mane, murmuring, "Rest now, Rochest." Legolas wasn't really thinking of a name, which was why it was so bad. _Horse rest._

Rochest seemed to like the elf, and nuzzled Legolas' hand. The prince smiled as the horse slowly drifted off to sleep, trusting its new owner. Only when Legolas saw the horses slumbering did he realize the last time _he_ had rested was ages ago.

True, as an elf, he did not need sleep, but he _did_ need to relax his mind for a deep but alert rest. Swiftly, leaning back into the horse with his arms still draped around its neck, the Sinda, like Rochest, drifted off to the realm of elven dreaming.

…

Legolas didn't know how long he and the horse had been out, but when he arose, he shifted uncomfortably. Something was nudging his chest. As Legolas stood, he took out a crumbled piece of paper inside his tunic. It was the one Gilrael had shoved into his hands before the battle with the spiders and orcs in front of the camouflaged door.

Smoothing out the paper on his knee, Legolas saw it was a very detailed map of the Oropherion caves. By the size of the cavern he was in, he was able to pinpoint his position on the map, and see where the cave he had left Gilrael was. It was a long journey to the north on foot, but Legolas hoped Rochest could carry him there swiftly.

The stallion was still dozing, but Legolas rubbed its neck and whispered, "Echuio, Rochest." After a few minutes, Legolas managed to get the horse up, but he discovered it was thirsty and hungrier than before. Rochest was not pleased to discover his new owner had no water or food, and refused to allow Legolas to mount, wasting quite a bit of time and energy from both elf and horse.

It turned out they would have to walk back after all, and it took all of Legolas' elvenly skill with horses to get Rochest to follow him, but even that was difficult, since he was not an elven horse. The old, tattered and stained map did not help, and often Legolas had to stop at a crossroad of tunnels for some time to decipher it.

Several hours passed before Legolas decided he must have been reading the map incorrectly. It showed him to be just one corner away from Gilrael's cave, but when he passed it, he found a densely dark tunnel ahead of him. Legolas was about to turn around to the brighter caves, perhaps having to shove Rochest to move, when a female voice sounded from the darkness.

"Who goes there?"

The horse snorted, but Legolas shushed it. Drawing an arrow, he called out, "Who is asking?"

The prince had his bow nocked and pulled back before the voice answered in Sindarin, " _I won't hurt you, whoever you are."_

Finally, Legolas recognized the voice. He lowered his bow, and smiling, announced, "It is I, Tauriel. Come out."

She didn't, but called, "If you really are the prince, tell me something so I can trust you."

"You are afraid of heights, and you are wearing a dark orange dress that is tattered and does not go well with your hair or eyes."

Now the elfling stepped forward from the shadows, eyes blazing. "How dare you say such mean words!"

Legolas smiled. "I only said that because I knew you did not pick that outfit yourself. An elfling with an ounce of sense would not have mixed dark red with green and orange."

Tauriel sniffed and crossed her arms. "You are an ellon, and not one to judge an elleth's dress."

Legolas laughed outright. "Oh, you would be surprised how similar a robe and dress are. In any case, due to my father, I have quite an excellent taste in fashion."

Tauriel still glared at him, but Legolas smiled good-naturedly. "Have no fear, little one. When we get back to the palace, you will have gowns galore. Now, why don't I lift you onto my horse here and we continue looking for a way out?"

Both Tauriel and Rochest looked at him with horrified, wide eyes. "I-I'm sorry to disobey you, my lord, but-"

"Legolas," the prince interrupted. "I hate it when people call me the same way they call my father."

Tauriel nodded. "Fine, but it doesn't seem respectful. Anyways, I thought you might want to know that Etrielle is stuck in there."

Legolas widened his eyes. "Stuck?" He moved forward, ordering the elfling and horse to follow, but neither did.

Turning around, Legolas frowned. "Whatever is the matter, Tauriel?"

She looked down, and shifted her feet. In a tiny whisper, she said, "I-I don't like that place. It's dark and evil. And bugs are crawling everywhere."

Legolas sighed and strode forward, planting a hand on her shoulder. "Look at me, Tauriel." The elfling did, with terrified emerald eyes. "You are with me now. No harm will come to you while I am here to protect you. Understand?"

She didn't look happy, but nodded. Legolas took out a knife from his belt and handed it to her. "Maybe this will make you feel better."

That worked. Tauriel snatched it from him and held it so tightly her knuckles turned white. But she smiled and declared, "I'm ready."

The same could not be said for Rochest. The horse had collapsed to the ground and refused to move, even when Legolas promised treats and rewards.

He sighed. "Well, you're just going to have to stay there while we go on."

Apparently, Rochest didn't want to stay by himself. He stood shakily, but clopped forward. Legolas shook his head. "We can't go behind him. All our stealth with be lost."

So while the stallion's heavy hooves echoed through the caves, Legolas led Tauriel some distance behind, and they slunk near the wall as softly as…elves.

After a few minutes, Legolas began to feel it. A deep, heart clenching feeling of foreboding, fear, and the thought of imminent death. It was as if his mind was paralyzed in fear, in shock. _Exactly what Arkanil described to the beings around Gilrael's cloak._

But that cloak was lying tattered among the brush miles away.

Tauriel whimpered. "I can't go on. I'm scared and my feet hurt and I'm exhausted."

Without a word, Legolas scooped her up in his arms and marched forward. He still didn't make a sound, but even if he did, he didn't care. Legolas had enough of hiding, of waiting. He was going to face this new threat head on and destroy it, all with an elfling frozen in fear in his arms.

They continued on for a while, but Rochest, somewhere in the thick darkness, gave a neigh before turning around and galloping back. By then, Tauriel was shaking and shivering. A little while later, she was thrashing and wailing, and it was all Legolas could do to not drop her.

But Tauriel, though unconsciously, probably saved them. By causing Legolas to focus on keeping her in his arms, he didn't have time to concentrate on the pulsing horror and lose his sanity.

"Naneth! Ada!" the elfling screamed. Legolas suddenly stopped short and dropped her on the ground, gently enough so she wouldn't get hurt, but with enough force so she would feel the impact.

It worked. Tauriel scrambled to her feet and shook her head. "The voices. The scuffling. Ooh-"

"Tauriel!" the prince snapped. "Do not let your thoughts linger." He took her hand and marched forward, murmuring elven hymns as he went.

This menace was new to him. Some great source of evil power was near, very near, and Legolas felt he was walking into a trap and wouldn't make it out alive and - _Oh, shut up,_ he ordered himself. _Concentrate on singing._

And sing he did. Song after song, hymn after hymn, carol after carol. When he paused in between a verse about Luthien the Fair, Tauriel looked up at him with a smile and admiring eyes. "You have a lovely voice. For an ellon."

Both laughed out loud, and their laughter broke the spell. A brilliant flash of white and golden light rippled through the tunnel, causing the elves to cover their eyes. But when it died, they saw a beautiful sight.

Before them was a vast, lush forest, with great trees dotting cliffs and mountains. Crystal clear streams and waterfalls gushed down from the rocky walls, and clouds dotted the ceiling.

But, indeed, it was a ceiling. For the immense cavern, more than a cavern or cave, was covered with a jagged roof, with cracks that filtered sunlight in.

Beams shone down into this paradise, and a breeze wafted through, carrying the sweet smell of fresh fruit and the fragrance of flowers. Birds chirped and twittered, squirrels scampered up and down the trees, and deer frolicked in a meadow in front of them.

Legolas glanced behind, but there was no dark tunnel of fear. It was a path dotted with wildflowers, which led down a hill to a lake. What in Arda…

The elves couldn't say a word for a moment. They stood there, unable to comprehend the glory, and how this miraculous environment was able to thrive so well underground.

Finally, Tauriel wondered, "Are there any elves here?" just as Legolas asked, "How are we going to get out?"

The elfling stared at him. "Why do we _want_ to get out? This is heaven!"

She rolled down the hill, jumped up at the bottom, and ran laughing into the lake, causing a nearby flock of ducks to fly out of the way.

But Legolas was too confused and worried to enjoy the majesty of the underground forest. Where was Etrielle? Tauriel had said she was in the dark tunnel, stuck. But clearly, this was no tunnel. What was it?

It certainly wasn't dangerous. Legolas picked up Tauriel's knife that she had dropped and sheathed it in his belt. Gazing around, he felt out of place with his weapons of war in this land of peace and tranquility, and he only kept them on his body…just in case.

One of the first things on his mind was how they had gotten to this realm in the first place. They had been, practically, in the pits of hell, and had come into paradise after a radiant burst of light, which had emitted after Legolas and Tauriel had shared a laugh. _A lamp of happiness in a bleak, forsaken place._

The thought just appeared in Legolas' mind, but he had no idea where it came from. Maybe Etrielle could explain, or Gilrael…but would he ever see them again, if he was stuck in that underground rainforest?

 _Stuck,_ Tauriel had said. _Etrielle is stuck._ Something dawned on Legolas' mind, a possibility, a mere shred of hope. But it was all he had, so he clung onto it with a passion, and set off in search of his beloved mentor.


	19. Chapter 19: Tauriel's Tale

"…so you can either go explore with me or stay here and swim."

Tauriel was perched on a boulder in the lake, pondering her choices. Finally, she hopped down and, wading to shore, announced, "I'd like to explore with you."

Legolas raised an eyebrow as she stepped onto land. "You lost your shoes."

Tauriel grinned. "I don't need them! The grass is so soft." She ran ahead towards some rabbits, and Legolas couldn't help but sigh wistfully.

This place reminded him of Imladris, bringing back memories of joy and peace. He wanted to kick off his boots, tear off his tunic and weapons, and dive into the lake, just like an elfling. Or run through the meadows with the deer. Or climb the towering pines with the squirrels.

But he had other duties. "Come along, Tauriel. This way."

She turned and skipped past him, laughing and basking in the sunlight that should not have existed. Some powerful magic was going on.

Legolas led the way down the path that would have been the dark tunnel. Perhaps that rich paradise was concealed from outside invaders by an infinitely long tunnel of darkness and terror, and only joy could bring one to the hidden realm.

Legolas was hoping Etrielle was on that very path, but so wrapped up in fear that she could not find her way out through joy to find herself in the grand forest.

They walked on and on, until not a speck of water could be found on Tauriel, and she declared she was starving. Legolas stared at her. How had he forgotten that elflings, even mature ones like Tauriel, needed more food and sleep than adult elves?

He sighed. "Well, I'm not going to hunt for meat. It seems…wrong."

Instead, Legolas reached up and picked a ripe, juicy apple and handed it to her. She frowned.

"It doesn't seem right to eat that."

Legolas shrugged. "Well, then you are going to be hungry, and this is mine."

He took a good-sized bite out of the apple and savored its sweetness. "Mmm. Such a shame you are missing out."

Tauriel sighed. "Fine." She tried to jump up and grab a delectable fruit, but she was too…vertically challenged. Legolas continued eating his apple, blissfully unaware of her difficulty.

Scowling, Tauriel climbed the tree, and hanging into a thick branch, reached for the ripest, juiciest, largest apple she could find. Just out of arms-length. So she daringly pulled herself further away from the trunk and yanked the apple with all her might.

The effort rewarded her with the prized fruit, but she lost her grip on the branch and tumbled several meters to the ground, screaming.

But it quickly turned into a giggle as Tauriel found herself safely in Legolas' arms, or arm, as he was still carrying his apple loftily in the air.

While they continued walking along the path, Tauriel, after taking a bite out of her apple, remarked, "The rumors about you are wrong, I suppose."

Legolas glanced at her. "What rumors?"

She shrugged. "Some people say you're an emotionally uncappable ellon who breaks the hearts of maidens who desire you. They say you are quite unhappy and very serious, not doing anything but archery day in and day out."

Legolas paused. "Do you believe those rumors?"

Tauriel smiled. "Of course not. I mean, if you're so unpleasant to be around, why do maidens want to spend so much time with you?"

Legolas nodded. "You are quite right. Still, I want to make this very clear for you. First of all, _I_ do not break people's hearts. Rather, they bring it upon themselves. I have made it well known that I am not interested in marrying, yet they still insist." _There_ _ **was**_ _that one elleth-_

"But you're very cheerful," opined Tauriel. "And I'm sure archery would get boring after a while."

Legolas smiled at the innocent soul who admired him so much. "Indeed, Tauriel. From whom did you hear those rumors?"

Tauriel's face suddenly darkened as she threw her apple core to the side. She was clearly hesitant to tell him, but her trust for him eventually won her over.

"Naneth departed for Valinor shortly after I was born because she thought the world was a hopeless case." Tauriel sighed.

"At least, that's what Ada said, though I think he was a bit, um, crazy, like Naneth. We lived in the middle of nowhere, out on the plains west of northern Mirkwood. Very near, um-"

"Gundabad?"

Tauriel nodded. "Yes. During the day, Ada to leave our little cave for hunts, and would often come back at night all bloody and cut up. So I spent most of my life alone in the cave, because Ada always told me the world was a dangerous place and I was to avoid it as much as possible. By the looks of him, I knew he was right.

"Well, one night, Ada did not come back. I waited until I was too tired to stay up, and fell asleep, certain he would return in the morning. He didn't. For a few days, I just went about normally, reading mostly. But about a week passed, and he still didn't show up. That was when I decided he was dead, and took matters into my own hands."

Legolas frowned. "You weren't…disturbed your father was dead?"

Tauriel shrugged. "Like I said, he was a bit crazy. So, studying maps that was scattered around the cave, I hatched a plan to travel to the Woodland Realm. I packed a knapsack stuffed with food, a blanket, and my most treasured books. I sheathed a pair of daggers in my belt, a gift from Naneth, Ada had told me. Armed and determined, I set off east.

"The trip to the Greenwood was relatively easy, though I was exhausted every day, because I hadn't done much exercise beforehand. But when I plunged into the woods, I got scared and lost very easily.

"I wandered around for about a day or so before Roquen found me. He was very nice and friendly, and led me to these caves, where he promptly became not very nice. He forced me to stay on that platform from which you rescued me, and gave me minimal food and water, and a few books. I stayed there for months, bored out of my mind, with those books he gave me memorized word for word. Then Etrielle came, the troll tried to knock me over, and you know the rest."

Legolas stopped short. "Why did Roquen keep you?"

Tauriel looked shaken, a ghostly shadow amongst the cheery landscape. "H-he wanted me to be a spy. He knew, one day, an elf would come upon me, and rescue me from the troll and the platform. I would be very grateful, especially when the person takes me into their home because I have none. But in reality, I was supposed to act as traitor, spying out the elven land."

She looked at Legolas with tears in her eyes. "I never intended to do that, even when Roquen made me swear an oath that I always meant to be empty. How could I betray the one who saved me from Roquen's clutches? He was a fool to think he could brainwash me. But what can I say now to make you believe me? You will think I am lying."

Tauriel turned and sobbed into her hands, crumbling into a heap at the base of giant oak. Legolas watched her silently for a moment. What a young yet resilient soul to have gone through all she had and still remain as calm as she was!

The prince slowly lowered himself next to her, and hesitantly laid a hand on her shoulder. Legolas had never been a very physical person, and preferred to keep his distance from others, especially clingy elleths. But he knew he would have a hard time of comforting Tauriel if he stood aloof.

"I believe you, Tauriel. There is no need to cry. You are brave and noble, and you will make an excellent warrior." She glanced up at him, and sniffed.

"Really?"

"Oh yes." He offered a smile, and Tauriel crushed him in a giant hug, startling him so much he nearly threw her off of him.

"Thank you, thank you, Legolas! You're like an older brother I never had." She rested her little head happily in his chest, and something stirred in the hardened heart of the warrior archer.

No one had hugged him like that before. Etrielle had, but hers was more often embarrassing than touching, and always motherly. Several elleths had as well, but they were only attracted to him because he, apparently, looked handsome. Tauriel was the first whose child-like admiration and love was shown in a well-meant…hug.

Legolas smiled, and whispered, "I will always watch over you, little one."

Tauriel glanced up, smiling as well, but suddenly, both their smiles faded. They jumped to their feet as Tauriel anxiously asked, "Do you hear what I hear?"

Legolas looked worried. "I hope not."


	20. Chapter 20: Treachery Destroys

The elves ran along the path for a few minutes until the sound was quite plain. Hysterical shrieks and wailing.

As they rounded a bend, both gasped. Etrielle was writhing on the ground, head in her hands, crying out in agony. The sight was so horrible Tauriel looked away, and sharp stabs assaulted Legolas' heart.

He rushed forward, crying out, "Etrielle!"

But the elven maid simply groaned and wailed, "Sauron, forgive me! I will do it right this time!"

Legolas nearly tripped as he slammed to a stop. _This time?_ The world spun. Azog had said Etrielle was a traitor. Legolas had refused to believe him. But now, hearing her…

"I failed you! That accursed man, Isildur, foiled my plans! I admit it! Please, stop this! I will serve you properly this time!"

Legolas touched her shoulder. "Etrielle, please, be still."

Under his gentle hand, her sobs quieted, and she breathed evenly. "Who are you?"

Legolas frowned. "You cannot see me?"

"I can only feel you and hear you."

"I am Legolas."

Etrielle reached out blindly, and finally touched his hand. "Laiqua…it cannot be. You are far away from here. This is a dream."

"No dream, Etrielle. Please, overcome your fears." He pulled her arm and guided her off the path, but she shrieked.

"The wall! I'll crash into the side of the tunnel!" But she didn't.

Instead, she stumbled into the grass, rubbing her eyes at the sudden light. When Legolas let go and Etrielle took in her surroundings, she gasped.

"This is not possible! I was never meant to partake in this blessing…I betrayed him!"

Legolas frowned. "Betrayed who?"

Etrielle sniffled, and touched his cheek sorrowfully. "Oropher. Your grandfather."

Legolas took a step back, and Tauriel appeared from the bushes, taking hold of his hand.

Etrielle smiled weakly. "I am glad you are safe, little one. I meant you no harm."

While Legolas was speechless, Tauriel talked for him. "Please, lady, explain what you mean by your being a traitor. I'm afraid we do not understand."

Etrielle pursed her lips, and a shadow darkened her face. "I will explain, and all will be clear. But before I do, I would like to have that young lady present. Gilrael."

Legolas found his voice, and rattled off question after question. "Do you know where we are? How to get out? How to find the rest of Middle Earth? What is going on here?"

Etrielle patted his shoulder. "All in good time, my boy. I will explain the business of this realm on our walk to the borders of paradise, where we will find the way out."

Tauriel walked ahead, occasionally stopping to take a whiff of rose, or add a blossom to a crown of flowers and vines she was crafting. Meanwhile, Etrielle tried to elucidate the matter of the hidden realm.

"You see, Legolas, in the days of old, your grandfather had many enemies. Well, perhaps not _quite_ enemies, but rivals. After he left Dol Guldor and the southern borders to the elves of Lorien, he built the palace where you live, and these hidden caverns. Oropher wanted to have a large, prosperous place for his elves to live in should he get attacked by the growing forces of the Dark Lord.

"Not many know this, but there were not only three Elven Rings of power. A fourth was crafted, in greater secret than the others. In this fourth ring was poured a mighty strength, elven magic, with the power of all the Three and some more. It, like the others, escaped Sauron's malice, but it, too, is still connected with the One Ring."

Etrielle took a deep breath. "This is a very well-kept secret, and even I am not supposed to know it, but as the prince, I am sure it will be of no harm if I tell you."

Legolas continued listening with wide, blue eyes, trying not to miss a word.

"As there were Narya, Nenya, and Varya, Fire, Water, and Air, so too was the fourth Ring, Earth, the foundation of them all. Little is known how it came to Oropher, but one way or another, it doesn't really matter. It suffices to know that because Oropher was skilled in magic, he was one of few able to wield the Ring of Earth. Since he wanted to keep it a secret, he poured forth all its power into the largest underground cave in the whole fortress, creating a lush landscape comparable to Rivendell and Lorien combined.

"The way the magic worked was the whole expanse of the caverns would appear dark, abandoned, and very much like an orc tunnel. In a few tunnels, one would experience such fear, such horror that you would be paralyzed. The feeling is of despair, yet the only way to end it is to produce cheerful, elvenly music."

"Music?" Legolas echoed. "Tauriel and I came here when we laughed together."

Hearing her name, Tauriel glanced behind and gave them a wave and a smile. Then she returned to chasing squirrels.

Etrielle nodded, musing, "I suppose laughter _is_ a form of music, so to speak. Oropher made this spell so that orcs could have no possible way of entering his hidden realm, second only to Valinor itself. Yet he chose to keep it a very large secret, and ruled his kingdom from the palace and left the Ring here, because he did not want the world to know.

"However, for all his effort, the Ring one day disappeared. Oropher searched all over for it, sending his most trusted hunters throughout here. But it was never found. Gradually, the might and heavenliness dissipated, so now it resembles Imladris more than Valinor. But since the magic and power of the Ring was so strong, the hidden enchantment still works, and the land is still beautiful and thriving. I suppose it will stay this way for many centuries to come."

Legolas pursed his lips. Now, everything made much clearer sense, but he still had so many questions. "How did you come to know this, Etrielle?"

The elleth looked away. "W-with the power of being able to blend into shadows, given to me by Sauron, I was able to eavesdrop. Spy. Betray my own kin."

"That is why you want to find Gilrael."

Etrielle nodded. "That young lady is very much like I was. Nothing, in this age, is new, Legolas. Everything has been planned before. Therefore, I was not at all surprised when Gilrael appeared, supposedly helpless and lost. I knew almost immediately she was an infiltrator."

But before she could continue, they stopped, and Tauriel shook off dozens of colorful butterflies that had landed on her arms.

Etrielle nodded. "Here we are. The end of the rainbow."

It was, however unbelievable, true. The large, shimmering arc stretched over the whole cave, and there before them, visible, was the end of it, though it did not touch the ground, but shone a bright white. Tall, lush green trees hung over it protectively, forming a canopy. Vibrant blossoms dotted its leaves, reflecting the colors from the largest rainbow any of the elves had ever seen.

Tauriel gasped. "It's beautiful! It glows!"

Etrielle smiled. "Yes, my dear. We have but to step under the end of it, and we will leave."

Tauriel pouted. "I do not want to. This…place has healed me magnificently. I do not feel tired anymore." She looked behind at the peaceful valley longingly.

Etrielle shook her head. "No one does, but we are not meant to live here, unless in great need."

Legolas asked, "Where will we end up?"

"At the cavern of the intersection of the Enchanted River and the Forest River. Come, I am very worried about Gilrael."

At the mention of her name, Legolas' heart fluttered. If Roquen had defeated her and she was dead, he wasn't sure how he would…live.

The trio stepped forward, into the beam of light emitting down from the end of the rainbow. Their skin radiated, and Legolas' hair shone golden like the sun. For a moment, they basked in the comforting warmth of the beaming rays. Then just as quickly, the world snapped in a great burst, and all they could see was pure, white light.


	21. Chapter 21: The Elleths' Burden

Sure enough, they arrived in the very same cavern Gilrael and Legolas had first stumbled upon, that long-ago time. Etrielle led the way to the cave where they had left Gilrael, Tauriel following anxiously, and Legolas faint with worry.

When they burst into it, Legolas melted with relief. There, in the middle of the cave, was Gilrael, sitting in an area dotted with blood, and weeping, but alive.

He rushed forward, Etrielle and Tauriel staying behind at a tactful distance.

As he approached her back, Gilrael shook her head. "It is all over, Legolas." Was he that loud? She could not have seen him.

"Tauriel is gone. Etrielle is gone." _She didn't say_ _ **traitor**_ _._ "R-Roquen…" but she could not continue.

As Gilrael broke into fresh tears, Legolas knelt beside her, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, squeezing her tight to him. All awkwardness he might have felt was gone, replaced by his concern for her, and his relief that she wasn't dead.

He didn't urge her to stop crying, for her grief and suffering was much more than he knew. He didn't tell her everything would be alright, for how could someone know a thing like that? He simply was there for her, there to listen, to provide companionship. And he did not care who was watching, even though Tauriel was grinning.

After a moment, Gilrael glanced at him with teary eyes, and cracked a smile. "Please don't crush me that much. I appreciate your concern, but I think I dislocated my shoulder."

How the world's best swordsman could manage to do that was beyond Legolas, but he pulled away gently. "Does it hurt much?"

Gilrael rolled her eyes. "Believe me, if Sauron had given _you_ his super deluxe torture circuit, this would feel like a walk in a forest."

She winced. "But don't try landing on your arm while fighting with it at the same time."

"Did Roquen injure you?"

Gilrael pursed her lips. "My wounds are of no importance. The other two, however-"

"No need to worry, Gilrael," Legolas promptly told her. He glanced behind, and the elleth turned. Etrielle and Tauriel smiled and waved. Gilrael gasped, then fell back, fainted dead away into Legolas' arms.

Why his heart was pounding when Gilrael was passed out was more than Legolas could guess. Etrielle and Tauriel approached, but neither wanted to step in blood, which had been splattered on Legolas' garments.

He glared at them. "What am I supposed to do?"

Etrielle shrugged, and said, "You're the man around here, so to speak." while Tauriel clasped her hands and sighed, "This is so romantic!"

Legolas glanced down. Gilrael could not have fainted because of surprise. She had stronger nerves than that. So she must have had a graver injury than she had let on.

The prince stood, carrying Gilrael, and set her on the ground in an area with no blood.

"Etrielle, you know healing. Can you see if Gilrael has any serious wounds?"

The elleth came forward, and pinched his cheek. "That's my man. Taking charge."

Legolas fought the urge to roll his eyes, and knelt while Etrielle made an inspection.

"Hmm, looks like her shoulder is dislocated, but I can fix that in a minute." She rolled up her sleeves, laid her hands on the shoulder, and give it a firm twist. Legolas flinched as he heard a pop, and Gilrael gasped.

"Ooh." Groaning, she tried to sit up, but Etrielle wouldn't hear of it.

"Lay down. You are in no condition to walk any more, and certainly not fight. Why did you not stop when you first broke your ankle?"

After more fussing for Etrielle, lots of worry for Legolas, and a few trips back and forth to the river for Tauriel, Gilrael was mostly cleaned up, with her more serious wounds bandaged with Etrielle's emergency wraps.

The maid stood, wiping her hands on a cloth Tauriel had. "Well, let's not linger more than we should. It's high time we get back to the palace, lest your father go mad."

Legolas froze. How long had they been gone? The king would assume the worst, and Falluen and Arkanil would suffer the thick of it.

Arkanil! The general wasn't in the palace at all! He was still in that cozy room underground, possibly dead when the tunnels collapsed.

"Etrielle, we cannot leave yet. Arkanil is still in a room underground, near the entrance."

The maid shook her head. "He will have to wait. We need to bring Gilrael to the palace right now, or she will risk infection. Even a warrior like you should know that."

Legolas sighed, but suddenly, Gilrael sighed dramatically. "So, just stand over me discussing matters as if I don't exist, will you? Etrielle, how are we supposed to go if I can't…walk."

With a graceful scoop, she was laying safely in the Sinda's arms. Legolas smiled. "I hope you're not as heavy without your weapons."

Gilrael glared at him. "Don't make a habit out of carrying me, Greenleaf. I hate feeling useless, like baggage."

"You're the most beautiful baggage I have ever seen. And baggage is not useless."

"Legolas…" Gilrael threatened.

Etrielle cleared her throat. "We need to move _now_."

She turned on her heel and marched out, and Legolas followed. Tauriel trailed behind him, but she looked worried.

"Um, Gilrael? Have you seen my daggers anywhere? I know it's kind of-"

The elleth raised her head, and rested it on Legolas' shoulder while glancing behind. "Actually, Tauriel, I have them in my belt. Roquen left them before he departed. I'll give them to you when we-"

"Don't worry about them! Thank you!"

Gilrael settled back down, and whispered so only Legolas could hear. "I struck him in the hip, and I think that was the final act, because he didn't try to retaliate. Slowly, he drew the daggers from his belt and placed them next to me. Then, while he limped away, he called back to me, 'I wish we didn't have to be enemies, Gilrael, but you chose the wrong side. We will meet in battle again, and the next time, I _will_ kill you.'"

She choked back a sob. "It's all my fault, Legolas. I was the one who corrupted him."

The elves followed Etrielle down a side tunnel, beyond the rushing rivers.

Legolas glanced down. "Is there no way to reverse it?"

Gilrael swallowed. "Yes, but I would be dead before I could reverse it." She rested her head against him, sniffling.

"Please don't leave me like Roquen did," she whispered.

Legolas was bewildered. He thought Gilrael didn't _like_ Roquen. It would be well over a millennia before he untangled everything.

The tunnel they were going down was very dark, but it was navigable with elven eyes. At first, Gilrael was tense, as if she was uncomfortable laying so close to Legolas. But when they walked through the darkness for a while, she relaxed, allowing her body to be more easily carried.

Legolas murmured, "Not afraid of the dark, hmm?"

Gilrael sighed. "I'm more comfortable in it, which tells you a lot. Nothing good happens at night and all that. Still, I wish I had been exposed to the sunlight more often when I was growing up. I've often missed the light."

So she wasn't a hopeless case as Legolas had thought.

They wandered through the tunnels for some time before Tauriel groaned. "My feet are killing me. I've tried to keep up, but I just can't anymore."

Etrielle stopped and turned back. "I suppose it's time for a rest. Legolas can't carry everyone."

Legolas muttered, "As if I can carry Gilrael forever. She's _heavy_."

"Hey!"

They settled down in an alcove of rocks, Legolas gently placing Gilrael on the ground.

Tauriel leaned against the wall. "I'm hungry. And cold. And tired."

Etrielle shook her head. "Sorry, sweetie. I don't have anything that can help that."

"I do," Gilrael announced. She slipped a torch and a piece of flint out of her garments, handing them to Legolas, and pulled a blanket out.

The other elves stared at her, and as she received the blanket, Tauriel asked, "How do you fight carrying all that stuff?"

Gilrael shrugged. "It's a really good bag. Holds a lot of things, and stays close to you. That's also why I wanted my cloak, Legolas," she added. "It has a lot of nice compartments."

The prince stared at her as he held the blazing torch aloft. "You made all that fuss about the cloak because it has good storage? It's not magical, causing paralyzing fear?"

Gilrael shook her head. "No, not magical. Just an ordinary cloak."

"Would you care to explain what causes the fear?"

The elleth turned her back to him, and didn't say a word.

Etrielle cleared her throat. "Do you have any food for the elfling?"

"I'm not-"

"Here, Tauriel." Gilrael handed her a small biscuit, which the elfling took readily enough.

Etrielle rubbed her hands. "Well, while we're resting, I do believe this is a good time to tell you the story of my past."

They murmured an agreement as Gilrael turned back and absently threaded her fingers through Legolas'.

"A long time ago, when I was about your age, Gilrael, I served as Oropher's most valuable and trusted scout, spying out the enemy. When we marched south with the elves of Lorien for the battle against Sauron, right before the Battle of the Last Alliance, it was my lot to slip inside the dark ranks and hunt for information to be reported back to Oropher.

"But he didn't know that Sauron had found me a long time before, in the days of my youth, and had trained me, then sent me to infiltrate the elves of Eryn Lasgalen."

Gilrael made a gagging sound.

"So whenever I came back to report to the king, I always gave him false information, which put his army right where the orcs needed him. Thus, he and the lord of Lorien launched an early attack, disobeying the orders of Gil-galad because they thought, with my hunting, they knew better. They were wrong.

"Countless Silvan and Sindarin elves died that day, including Oropher, which had been my main task, but I felt like a wretch. The army was very diminished, precious few compared to our grand ranks at the start. Thranduil, the prince at the time, led a dejected troop back home, but he didn't banish me, for all who knew that I gave false information were dead.

"I dealt with that guilt very heavily. By Sauron's orders, I was supposed to return south and betray the combined armies of High-elves and Men, but I could not do an efficient job. Still, we won many battles, until Isildur broke off Sauron's hand and took the Ring. Then we were finished, and the Dark Lord's ranks were scattered."

Gilrael murmured, "Sauron hates you."

Etrielle started, and turned to her. "Really? Tell me more."

Gilrael sighed. "That's why he sent me. Well, partly why. He wanted me to, like you, infiltrate the elves, gain their trust and betray them."

Tauriel piped up, "And what Roquen wanted me to do."

Gilrael nodded. "But Sauron also wanted me to, um, exterminate Etrielle. She knows part of his future plans – not as much as I do but still a decent amount – and she was his one weak link. Now, of course, he has two weak links."

Etrielle shook her head. "One. My fighting days are over. I will remain silent, and take up healing. Besides, Gilrael probably knows what I do, and more."

Legolas stroked her hand which was in his. "What do you know, Gilrael?"

She pursed her lips. "Many things, none of them good." She glanced at Tauriel, whose eyes had started to droop, and who was fighting to stay awake.

"Sleep, Tauriel. We have traveled far enough for one day."

The elfling dropped off in a moment.

Later that night, while Legolas was 'resting', he overheard Etrielle and Gilrael's hushed conversation.

"Roquen is still out there, Etrielle, and that concerns me."

"Why? What harm can he bring?"

"He is intelligent, unlike the other orc generals. He will not make stupid plans, but ones that will never fail. Sauron doesn't like him very much, for various reasons, but he knows Roquen is cunning."

Etrielle looked grim. "So, are we dead?"

Gilrael sighed. "If Sauron had both Roquen and me at his disposal Middle Earth would be doomed, but he didn't expect I would switch sides. With Roquen on that side and me on the good side, we have some hope."

Now, Etrielle leaned forward and talked even softer. Legolas had to strain his ears to their maximum potential.

"Do you still have your ring?"

Gilrael nodded.

"What is it like?"

Gilrael exhaled slowly. "It is a curse, a burden. It gnaws my soul, presses immense weight on it, and sometimes I cannot breathe, or I feel so depressed and low in spirit that I…want to give up my spirit and fade away to Valinor. It provides a way for Sauron to channel himself into me, bestowing me with his thoughts, his strength, his skill, his power. He possess me, and I cannot control it."

She was clearly shaken, and something clenched around Legolas' heart. How dare anyone treat her like that! His hatred for Sauron burned anew.

Gilrael took a slow breath. "However, with it comes great power, more than you can imagine, but I use it very sparingly. A few days ago, when I blew up that tunnel, was the first time in ages. What of yours?"

Etrielle shook her head. "I destroyed it long ago."

Gilrael looked surprised, yet eager at the same time. "How did you do it?"

The older elleth sighed. "Well, I didn't do it, exactly. When Isildur cut off the Ring from Sauron's finger, it disintegrated. I felt so free, so refreshed. Oh, and my hair and eyes turned back to their old color."

Gilrael was very perplexed. "Hair and eyes?"

Etrielle nodded. "As you see, my hair is quite red, with a little brown. My eyes are light brown. But with the ring, my hair was dark brown, and my eyes black as night."

Gilrael whispered, "Like mine."

Etrielle smiled. "But you are fortunate to have golden accents. Mine had none."

"I wonder what color they used to be."

Etrielle took a deep breath. "I know, but that is not for you to know until the evil is destroyed."

Gilrael looked pained. "So you know how mangled I have become."

Etrielle ignored her. "Do you remember anything before your capture?"

Gilrael sucked in a quick breath. "Very little. Only the names of my parents, a-and Legolas."

The eavesdropping prince caught his breath. She remembered _him_?

"Alas, most of my memory of him has faded, but through all these years, I have held on to life because of him. I-I thought if I waited long enough, h-he might come a-and bring me to a better place."

Etrielle raised an eyebrow. "Why did you think of him instead of…the others? Do you remember…Glorfindel?"

Gilrael frowned. " 'Golden haired?' No, I recall no such person."

Etrielle looked down. "He will not be happy to know that."

Gilrael suddenly reached forward and grabbed her shoulders. Legolas tensed, prepared if she attacked the maid.

"NO! Do not tell _anyone_! The ones who know cannot be avoided: you, Legolas, Tauriel, Arkanil, Falluen, the king. Maybe a few guards. But I do not want _anyone_ else to know of me. No one. You hear?"

Etrielle was startled. "W-why?"

Gilrael was, strangely, desperate. "Please, Etrielle! I will tell people in my own time, when I get to know them, when I deem it suitable. But until then, _do not breathe a word_ _about my past!_ "

Astonishingly, Etrielle conceded. "Very well, my dear. Now get some rest. I need some as well."

The maid laid down on her side, facing the wall. Gilrael inched towards Legolas slowly, and the prince stilled his breathing.

She brushed her fingers lightly over his cheek, a touch so soft if he had really been resting he would not have awoken. But he was awake, and it was all he could do not to allow a shiver to permeate through his body.

Gilrael murmured, "You _did_ bring me to a better place, in the end. And you convinced me to turn from my corrupted ways, an impossible thing."

She paused, before whispering, "I owe you my life."

Her hand dropped, and she shifted to the side. Too suddenly. Her foot slammed against something, and she cried out. But no one responded.

* * *

Biting her lip, Gilrael laid back against the wall, her eyes scanning the room, and finally fixed her gaze on the sleeping elfling. How peaceful she looked! How much different Tauriel was than Gilrael when she was that age.

Gilrael felt a sudden attachment to her. She knew Tauriel's history; Roquen had told her. She knew if Legolas had not intervened, the elfling would eventually become much like her: stricken with endless, unrelenting guilt for more-than-grievous crimes, but unable to stop doing them for fear of the master.

That was really it. Gilrael had faced so much darkness, so much evil without any cowering that she may have been called a courageous warrior, but it was only because she feared someone greater than anything she had faced.

Gilrael didn't want that for Tauriel, or anyone else for that matter. That was why she was loath to tell anything that had happened to her while in captivity. The sorrow in her story was so great, the person hearing it would probably have nightmares for the rest of their life. Which was why Gilrael hated resting.

So she sat in the dark, watching with keen eyes that could pierce through the shadows looking for threats, and alert ears listening for…cursing?

Gilrael sat up straighter. It was a male voice, but her heartrate slowed when she realized it wasn't Roquen.

"You're not an elfling, Arkanil! Get over it! It's just a, just a broken knee! A broken, bleeding, painful…shut up!"

Gilrael blinked. Arkanil? The general had walked all the way to their tunnel with a _broken knee_?

The elleth shook Legolas, and fortunately she had the sense to pin his arms down and hiss, "It's Gilrael!"

The prince uncurled his fists and sat up. "What is it?" he whispered.

Gilrael sighed as Arkanil swore.

Legolas widened his eyes. "No…"

"Yes. Now don't just sit…there."

Legolas had disappeared into the darkness, weaponless in his excitement.


	22. Chapter 22: Separated

The stumbling grew louder, and Legolas eagerly rounded a bend in the tunnel, calling out for the general. But he was perplexed to find there was nothing before him but utter dark. The noises grew softer.

Curse these underground caves! Why did the sounds have to be so misleading down there? How he missed the forests above, where sound traveled _normally_.

Legolas jogged down the tunnel for a while, but he gradually grew slower, until he stopped. Not a sound was to be heard in the bleak darkness.

By Eru, he was so stupid. Gilrael had warned him to be careful underground, not to trust his ears, but he hadn't listened. _Why_ hadn't he listened?!

Legolas decided to turn around, try to make his way back. But the tunnels wouldn't hear of it. In about ten minutes, the prince realized he was, for the second time, lost. And this time, he was weaponless.

Before Legolas had laid down to rest, he had taken off his weapons to make himself more comfortable. _Why_ did he do that?

If anyone ever told him he was intelligent, Legolas decided, they were lying.

The Sinda stayed where he was, to the side of the tunnel, in the hopes that the others would find him. _Pathetic,_ he thought. _A grown elven warrior having to be rescued._

While waiting, Legolas searched his tunic for something useful, but all he came up with was an empty flask and the map, which hadn't served him any help before. Besides, he could barely read it in the dark.

At least _that_ tunnel wasn't pulsing with evil horror.

….

Gilrael shrieked, "ETRIELLE!"

The maid woke up instantly, a knife in hand. "What is it, Gilrael?" Her eyes swiftly scanned the area, and widened. "Where is Legolas?!"

"Down the tunnel, that way. He heard Arkanil, and went to-"

Etrielle was gone, with their torch in her grip.

Tauriel groaned, and began to stir. "W-what is going on? Who took the torch? I'm cold."

Gilrael pulled herself up and limped to the elfling as best as she could. "Here, Tauriel, take my blanket."

The elfling stood, wrapping it around her shoulders. "Where is Etrielle? And Legolas?"

Gilrael sucked in a quick breath. Why did her ankle throb more than the last time she had broken it? Or the time before that? Or-

"Why did he leave his weapons?"

Gilrael glanced to the side, where the Sinda's military equipment was laying neatly in a pile.

"He left in a rush, Tauriel. We heard Arkanil nearby-"

"Who?"

Gilrael sighed. "He's a general. A close friend of the king who was trapped in these caverns. Oh, I'll tell you all about it later. Anyways, when Legolas heard him, he took off rashly in his excitement. I fear he got himself lost."

Tauriel suddenly announced, "I hear him!"

"Legolas?"

"No, Arkanil! He's, he's very distraught. Do you want me to go bring him back?"

Gilrael widened her eyes. "No! You will get yourself…hurt, or lost. No, I will go."

Tauriel crossed her arms. "Gilrael, you have a broken ankle, and other injuries. There is no way I will let _you_ go."

Gilrael frowned. "Then we go together."

Tauriel sighed. "Gilrael, what if Etrielle or Legolas returns? To nothing? Then all of us will be wandering these tunnels looking for one another."

Gilrael hesitated. "I don't like the thought of sending you off into the dark."

"I'll be fine. Arkanil is very nearby. Besides, I have experience navigating tunnels."

Gilrael pursed her lips, but finally relented. "You will bring your daggers."

Tauriel smiled, and her grin widened when she accepted her beloved knives. "Don't worry! I'll come back very quickly."

Gilrael nodded. "Be careful."

With that, the elfling disappeared, and Gilrael felt like she had just sent her off to her demise.

….

Tauriel called out, "Lord Arkanil! Can you hear me?"

She heard an exclamation, and made her way cautiously towards it. "My lord? Give a shout so I can find you!"

"Who is this? Glurdag?"

Tauriel blinked. Who was Glurdag?

"I know not of whom you speak. I am Tauriel!"

A gasp sounded, and there, hidden in a small cave in the side of the tunnel was a huddling general.

Tauriel smiled. "There you are! I'm so glad I found you!"

Arkanil trembled, and the elleth was confused. Was he afraid of her?

"L-Luinil's child?"

Tauriel blinked. "You knew my father?" She took a step back. If this elf was anything like her Ada, she would be wary.

Arkanil rose unsteadily. "Do not be afraid of me, little one."

Tauriel narrowed her eyes, though he had a kind look his eyes. "If you knew my father, you know he abandoned me. That was after he let me grow up practically alone while he was out…hunting."

Arkanil hobbled toward her. "Oh, child. Your father did not abandon you!"

He laid a gentle hand on her cheek, and she flinched. Backed up against the wall, she had nowhere to go, and no matter what, she had no desire to hurt the poor elf's knee too rashly.

"Your father loved you…Tauriel." The elfling stared at him.

"Loved? So he _is_ dead?"

Arkanil frowned. "Several months ago, yes. The king took his death very hard."

Tauriel blinked. Several months ago? That was about the same time she had departed from her little cave…

"What happened?" she whispered. "You must tell me."

Arkanil shook his head. "Not right now, child. I need to get my knee attended to."

He grit his teeth. "Not too happy to see that healer again, but he knows what he's doing."

Tauriel offered her arm. "Gilrael's just down the tunnel that way. She probably knows something that can help you before we set out for the palace."

Arkanil frowned. "Gilrael?"

Tauriel sighed. "Looks like I am not the only one who has no idea what's going on. Come on."

She was very careful not to hurt the general. He had all the answers she had been searching for, and she wanted to know them as quickly as possible. Perhaps soon all her problems would be solved and she would be able to live a normal life…

…

Legolas felt like an elfling again. He couldn't sit still, the wait was torture, and he _hated_ being underground. Detested it. Loathed it. _Deplored_ it.

Previously, he had been too busy to really notice, but sitting in the shadows, doing absolutely nothing but listen for calls and wait, he realized how much he craved the open air. The fresh scent of pine, the soft breeze, the lofty trees…the trees! Why were there no _trees_ underground?

 _Snap out of it, Legolas_ , he chided himself. _Whining won't get you anywhere._

But, apparently, neither did sitting in one place. He had expected one of the others, Etrielle most likely, to look for him, but so far, he had heard nothing.

How long would he wait? Legolas wasn't sure. He hoped someone would find him before he had to seriously worry about that problem.

For the moment though, he worried about other pressing problems. _The next time I visit Imladris,_ Legolas decided, _I'm going to ask Erestor if it's possible for trees to grow underground._

The prince chuckled. His old tutor would have a hard time answering _that_ question.

…

"Easy there, Arkanil. This is hard enough with _my_ injuries, much less your thrashing."

Gilrael had convinced the general she was not a traitor, and she was cleaning his knee wound. Tauriel watched very carefully with wide eyes.

"Gilrael!" Arkanil gasped. "What are you doing?"

The elleth pressed crushed herbs into his knee. "Just some healing leaves."

"Athelas?"

Gilrael frowned. "I know not of that herb. These I made myself. Mostly."

Arkanil winced, then asked, "Who helped you?"

Gilrael pursed her lips. "Um…books. Old ones."

"OW!" She had wrapped a piece of cloth around his knee, and tied it securely.

Arkanil took quick gasps as she bound it. "H-how bad is it?"

"I don't know."

For a moment, the general forgot his pain. He peered at her. "You are supposedly healing me, and you don't know."

Gilrael made a face. "I'm not a healer. I'm a warrior."

Arkanil gaped.

Gilrael smiled. "But I _have_ picked up a thing or two in that department. Tauriel, get me Legolas' bow."

The elfling quickly returned with it, frowning. "Why do you need his _bow_?"

The elleth tore off a strand of its string. "I need this to tie it."

Tauriel stared at it. "There's no way that thin piece of-"

But Gilrael ripped off the whole thing.

While she strung it around Arkanil's knee, he raised an eyebrow. "Legolas is not going to be happy about tha-ow!"

Gilrael shrugged. "He can restring it. All done, Arkanil."

The general kept gasping, but Tauriel looked disturbed. "Um, Gilrael? How's your ankle feeling?"

The elleth glanced at her. "Better. What's wrong?"

"I think you're going to need it. We're under attack."

The minute Tauriel said that, Gilrael swore. The slight rumbling she had heard was not the gushing of the rivers in the distance, but the swarm of spiders. Hundreds of them.

Still cursing, she shoved Arkanil and Tauriel into a corner. "Stay here, both of you, out of sight."

The general didn't complain, but Tauriel protested, "I can use my daggers!"

The elfling paled and quickly shrunk back at Gilrael's look. "A-actually, I'll stay here and guard Arkanil."

Gilrael pushed Legolas' weapons into the wall, and cleared the area. Hopefully, the spiders would pass them and continue down the tunnel without attacking.

The elleth secured her weapons and drew her hood over her face. If the spiders saw her killing them, word would spread that she was a traitor to the evil side. And she did not want her nightmare of Sauron chasing her come true.

Gilrael whipped out her swords, and Tauriel from behind the rocks whimpered.

"Quiet, Tauriel," she hissed. "Spiders have excellent hearing."

With that, the first dozen arachnids came into view, Gilrael grit her teeth against the pain of her wounds, and prepared to fight.

….

Legolas plastered himself against the wall, and drew his hood so his golden hair wouldn't give him away. The spiders scuttled down the tunnel, and since he was weaponless, he didn't want them to come near.

Fortunately, they didn't notice him, or if they did, they didn't care. When the last spider crawled away, Legolas peered out. His heart was thumping, and he didn't want to sit and wait any longer. Next time something came, he might not be so lucky.

The Sinda glanced back and forth in his tunnel. To the left were the spiders, and to the right was…an insistent scraping sound.

"Left it is," Legolas muttered.

He made sure to stay close to the wall with his dark cloak covering him as much as possible, but he felt exposed without his weapons. Terrified when the noise from the right got louder.

Trying to control his breathing, Legolas froze, eyes darting through the shadows to find the source of the sound. The pounding noise intensified, a wrangled voice shouted, and the next thing Legolas knew, his hood was thrown off of him as he landed on the ground with a hoof on his chest.

"Rochest?"


	23. Chapter 23: She is Poisoned

The stallion was, apparently, surprised. He quickly stepped off his master, who rolled away and leapt to his feet.

"Etrielle!"

The elleth slid off the horse and hugged Legolas tightly. "Thank Eru you're alright! The spiders didn't bother you?"

Legolas shook his head. "Not at all."

A shadow passed over Etrielle's face. "That's…odd. Very odd. Come, we must hurry. I've been looking all over for you, and fortunately your horse here – Rochest, you called it – found me andtook me to you. But the poor thing has a piece of metal in its hoof, so it was slow going."

Legolas frowned. "And you rode him?"

Etrielle looked shaken. "I didn't have a choice, and we don't have one now. Rochest will take us much faster than if we walked."

"But he's injured."

The elleth took a deep breath. "He will have to deal with it. We _must_ make haste!"

Legolas glared at her as he slowly lifted himself onto the horse. "It had better be for good reason. My heart _burns_ doing this to him."

Etrielle climbed up behind him. "Don't be more dramatic than you have to be." She clung to his waist as Legolas ordered Rochest to gallop, promising bucket loads of sugar cubes and apples for a whole week.

Yes, the Sinda tended to spoil his horses.

…..

Gilrael was confused. Spiders did not like attacking unless someone invaded their territory, and even then, they were defensive. But there in the tunnel, the arachnids were all out to kill her with fangs and stingers.

Gilrael swore as she ducked under a spindly leg. Why were there so _many_? None were leaving, and more were coming with each minute, as if they were all attracted to _her_ , and not Tauriel or Arkanil, who were huddled safely behind some boulders.

The warrior clenched her teeth as she stabbed a spider's belly with a sword and sliced a leg off with the other. Her whole body was on fire, screaming in pain, and her legs threatened to give way. But Gilrael had long ago trained herself to suck up the pain and continue to fight, or face something worse. Sauron's wrath.

 _Though,_ she thought, _I do not answer to him anymore._ Still, Gilrael fought on, gasping for breath, desperate for rest and water. Every minute that ticked by made her more and more tempted to use her ring and be done with it, but she delayed. How much more would her spirit be drained if she unleashed its power so soon after the last time!

Gilrael suddenly became aware of conversation between the spiders. They spoke their own language, but Gilrael had, over the centuries, picked it up, along with others that were fouler.

" _She's going to use the ring! We must leave now!"_

" _No! Roquen's orders were to kill her!"_

" _We will die before we can!"_

" _Just a little longer. She tires. We will defeat her soon!"_

Panting, Gilrael hurled a throwing knife into the head of the spider who wanted to stay. That seemed to help.

Some spiders took off down the tunnel, but still, others remained, determined to kill her before they left.

Gilrael dove under the belly of a spider and stabbed upwards, knocking away another spider with her other sword. But suddenly, a flash of light drew her eyes to the side as she rolled and leapt to her feet, covered in black, sticky blood.

"L-Legolas?"

She couldn't believe her eyes. The Sinda was _riding_ a spider, literally _standing_ on it. He had a knife stuck in its head, and he steered the arachnid with it, slashing spiders with his other hand which carried a sword.

Gilrael's mouth dropped open, but she twirled to the side and stabbed a spider just in time.

Then she stared at him, because the spiders had stopped attacking her to, similarly, stared at the elf, totally transfixed.

Gilrael blinked. He was mad. That was clear. His blue eyes were flashing with menace, and he leapt from spider to spider with surprising energy, killing and cursing as he went. Why was he so angry?

However, soon the spiders realized they were going to be skewered if they didn't leave. One by one, they scuttled down the tunnel, chattering about their failure.

Legolas marched up to Gilrael. " _What_ did you do to my bow?"

The elleth stared at him. He had just, practically, single-handedly killed dozens of giant spiders, scaring off the others with a knife and a sword, and saved her life. And he was mad because she had taken off the string of his bow?

"Um, I took off the string."

" _Why?_ "

Someone cleared their throat, and the elves turned. Arkanil and Tauriel rose, and the general informed him, "She used it to tie the cloths around my knee."

Legolas suddenly forgot all about his bow. He rushed forward, embracing the general, and they conversed.

Gilrael looked around. Dead spider bodies were scattered throughout the tunnel, but Etrielle was nowhere to be seen.

Tauriel frowned. "Where is she?"

Gilrael pursed her lips. "I hope Legolas knows. But he's mad at me."

Hearing his name, the prince turned to her. Faster than she could comprehend, he was by her side.

Legolas smiled. "Gilrael, I am not mad at you." He leveled his eyes. "But next time, don't you dare touch my bow."

The elleth smiled back. "Very well." Her smile disappeared, replaced with worry. "Where is Etrielle?"

…

"Right here," the maid announced as she walked in the tunnel, leading Rochest, which promptly collapsed to the ground.

"Oh, dear, _look_ at you all!" She rushed forward, gazing from one bloody elf to another in horror.

Tauriel had not stayed in one place during the battle with the spiders. With her daggers, she had slayed a few spiders, much to her pleasure. But in the act, she had suffered a scrape to the cheek and arm, and was splattered with spider blood.

Arkanil was dressed in rags, and covered in his own dried blood and bruises. His face was ghastly, with a dark purple splotch under his eye, courtesy of Roquen.

Etrielle smiled to herself when she took in Legolas, who, out of them all, had managed to stay the cleanest. His hair and face were quite clean, and though his clothes had a few cuts and were spotted with blood, her little Laiqua was practically sparkling.

The same could not be said for Gilrael, who looked like she had traveled to the pits of hell and back in an hour. Her wounds were deep and severe, she was covered in blood, and her clothes were ripped and ragged. Gilrael's face was drawn and haggard, and she breathed heavily, swaying on her feet as she tried to stand.

But she had, once again, pushed herself to her elven limit. Etrielle wouldn't have been surprised if, had she been a human, she was fatally injured.

…

Legolas needed water, badly, but he was shaken out of his aquatic dreams when Arkanil and Tauriel simultaneously gasped, "Gilrael!"

As a reflex, the prince thrust out his arms, and caught the collapsing elleth. Fortunately, she had no fainted. Yet.

Etrielle widened her eyes. "We need to get to the palace as quickly as possible. Legolas, lift her onto Rochest."

The stallion lifted its head up, and refused to stand. However, it seemed Tauriel had a gift for communicating with horses. With some coaxing and more promises, she had him standing, and stroked his mane to keep him still as Gilrael was placed onto his back.

Legolas pulled himself up behind her, and held her so she wouldn't fall off.

"I can hold on myself…" she murmured, clearly in a daze.

Legolas looked grim. "Just worry about staying alive, Gilrael."

Etrielle turned to Arkanil. "I'll try to help you walk, but you'll have to deal with the pain. We don't have any more horses."

The general shook his head. "I cannot put any weight on that leg. You all go on. I'll wait here."

"No, you won't," a voice suddenly called.

Everyone turned, even Gilrael, and stared, speechless, as Falluen rode into sight.

Legolas had never been happier, more relieved to see his friend mounted on a horse. "Falluen!"

The ellon slipped off, and smiled. "I've been searching everywhere for you for five days, mellon!"

 _Five days? That long?_

Falluen strode over to Arkanil and took his weight from Etrielle, busying himself with steadying the general, unaware of how he was a savior to the five elves.

"Here, my lord, let me help you onto my horse."

But Legolas' attentions were drawn back to Gilrael as she suddenly sucked in a quick breath.

"Gilrael? What's wrong? Speak to me!"

The elleth drooped back onto the desperately worried prince, and she groaned. "V-venom. S-spider's stinger…venom…stabbed."

"Gilrael!"

She didn't say another word as she drifted into unconsciousness.

By then, Etrielle and Arkanil were mounted, and ready to go. They drew up the rear behind Rochest as Falluen led the way. He glanced behind at Legolas.

"We will get her home quickly, mellon nin. It is just a short way ahead."

He turned to Tauriel. "Will you walk?"

She nodded. "Hopefully Rochest will forget about his wounds and follow me."

They started off, and Tauriel whispered to Legolas, "Who is he?"

The prince steadied Gilrael, then told her, "A close friend."

Falluen looked behind. "A close friend? I'm pretty sure I just saved your skin, and all I get is close?"

Legolas smiled. "What would you say instead?"

Falluen grinned. "I'm like a brother you could not live without. I'm a lifesaver. I'm so awesome. I'm-"

"You have my permission to stop now. By Eru, you sound like the twins."

"Which one?"

"Both."

They were smiling, and Tauriel couldn't help but smile too. Their smiles widened when, finally, they passed through a small path surrounded by moss-covered boulders, and emerged into what Legolas imagined was the densest part of the Greenwood.

He could describe it in one word: thick. The trees' trunks, the vines, the foliage, even the wild grass. It was, seemingly, an endless mass of…greenery.

Falluen glanced behind, and his face paled. Legolas frowned. "What is wrong?"

His friend pursed his lips. "Um, Gilrael seems…lifeless. Here, we need to switch horses. You two on my horse, and Etrielle and Arkanil on, um…"

"Rochest," Tauriel informed.

Falluen nodded. "Rochest, yes. My horse, Talagor, will take you home much faster, hopefully in time to save Gilrael. Hurry."

The switch was made quickly, and Tauriel was included. The elfling would ride in front, with Legolas in the back and Gilrael in between.

Falluen nodded. "Go, with as much haste as possible. Noro lim, Talagor."

He sped off, and Legolas had to fight to keep Gilrael from jolting. Tauriel screamed, but he told her, "Keep your head down, and hold onto the mane. Gently, but firmly."

The elven horse leapt over the bushes and plowed through others, making very fast time. Legolas glanced down at the still-unconscious elleth, his heart pounding with worry. Would she die after all they had gone through?

Legolas couldn't bear the thought. If Gilrael was separated from him so quickly after being reunited, he would, he would…he didn't want to think about it.

The Sinda clutched her to him tightly, whispering desperately, "Fight it, Gilrael! Don't leave me! Please, don't die!"


	24. Chapter 24: Dark Dreams

Thranduil paced the hallway between the royal chambers. Curse those healers! Why didn't they allow him inside Gilrael's bedroom? By Manwe, they let _Etrielle_ in!

The king scowled. He was waiting, always waiting. Five days. That was a very long time to have no idea where your son was. And he was _injured_. Legolas was injured! But Thranduil had no idea how bad it was, because though he was aware his son was in the palace, he had no idea where he was.

He had a mind to kick open the door and give those healers a piece of his mind, but Etrielle suddenly slipped out of the room, raising an eyebrow at his angrily flushed face.

"Calm down, Thranduil."

"Why? I'm standing out here, with no knowledge of anything that is going on, because those -" he swore "-stupid healers locked me out!"

Etrielle patted his shoulder. "Stop acting like an elfling, Thranduil. The reason why those healers didn't let you in was because you wouldn't do any good in there. In fact, I suspect you would do some harm if you went in."

The king glared at her. "How would I do harm?"

Etrielle shrugged. "Yelling, scolding, giving a lecture. Actually, it was Legolas who asked the healers to not let you in."

"My own son?"

The elleth sighed. "You should expect some…rebellion."

Thranduil started pacing, agitated. " _Some_ rebellion? Etrielle, he is _all_ rebellion! He feels free to leave the palace whenever he wants to – _without_ my permission after I _explicitly_ told him not to – and look what he got himself into!"

Etrielle raised an eyebrow. "He saved Gilrael's, Arkanil's, Tauriel's and _my_ life, Thranduil. I should think it was worth it."

The king was in a corner. Why did he end up arguing with Etrielle, though he always resolved not to?

Thranduil sighed. "Well, could he at least come out so I can see how he is doing?"

Etrielle nodded. "I will ask."

In a moment, she was back. Taking a deep breath, she told the king, "He will not be parted from Gilrael. At least, not presently."

Thranduil pursed his lips. All those years of complaining about being stuck with an elleth, and now he refused to be parted with one?

Etrielle sighed. "Legolas is doing quite well. Arkanil is pretty beat up – you know you can visit him if you want to, right? – but he's fine too."

"And Gilrael?"

Etrielle looked away. "S-she'd like some privacy."

"That does not clarify how she is doing."

The elleth crossed her arms. "It tells you that she is alive, and for that, you should be satisfied. Now don't you have more important things to do than stand here?"

Thranduil glared at her. "What would you know of my duties?"

Etrielle clucked her tongue. "My, Thranduil, you know I served your father. And still you think you are older and know more. Why, I remember when you were a little elfling, running around in-"

The king held up a hand. "Enough, Etrielle." He sighed. "I suppose I should check on Arkanil, and the elfling…Tauriel?"

Etrielle nodded. "As you know, she is the daughter of Luinil. That means…"

"What?"

The elleth looked at him pointedly. "It means she needs a place to stay. _In the palace_."

Thranduil stared at her. "You expect _me_ to raise her?"

Etrielle tried not to roll her eyes. "No. But I imagine Arkanil would. And she already sees Legolas and Gilrael as a brother and sister."

"She does?"

The elleth threw up her hands, exasperated. "Sometimes I cannot believe the similarity between you and your son. You have more than you know."

Thranduil glared at her. "I'm trying, okay? But Legolas is so stubborn!"

Etrielle smiled. "Like his father. You should go."

As he left, albeit reluctantly, the king sighed wearily. It was times like those that he yearned for Serilna, her company, her gentle touch, her cheerful smile, her spirited nature. If only she hadn't…he couldn't think about it.

 _Focus, Thranduil_ , he told himself. _More grieving won't get you anywhere._ Especially with Legolas.

…

The prince hovered worriedly over Gilrael, who was laying in her bed, lifeless but for her unsteady breathing, and her strangled request earlier to not allow anyone else besides Legolas and the healers into her room. But after that, she wouldn't, or couldn't, say another word.

Legolas turned to one of the two healers as the other one left to get something. "Is she getting any better?"

The healer pursed his lips. "Yes, she is better, but better is not necessarily a good thing."

He quickly clarified, "I mean, if she was almost dead when she arrived, she's less dead, but not entirely…well. You know what I mean?"

Legolas glared at him. "No! What's wrong with her? Why does it take so long?"

"It's only been a few hours."

"My point exactly! Now, explain to me. What is the matter?"

The healer exhaled slowly. "It's giant spider venom, which isn't really deadly to an Elf in small portions. But, um, Gilrael was injected with quite an amount of it, while her body was already very much weakened with loss of blood and other various injuries. In fact, some of her wounds were slightly infected. What made it worse was that she continued fighting with all this."

"So?"

"So she crossed the limit of her abilities, and collapsed because her body couldn't take it anymore. Her, uh, disastrous situation right now is, according to what I see here, because she crossed that limit quite frequently. It builds up every time, you know, if you don't get proper treatment afterwards. And of course, if she hadn't been one of the Eldar, she would probably be dead."

The second healer walked in with a green flask, and she frowned disapprovingly at the first healer when she saw Legolas' distressed state.

"Solwen! How often do I have to remind you not to tell the patient's caregiver too many details?"

Solwen glanced at Legolas, whose heart was racing and whose stomach felt sick but appeared to be unmoved on the outside.

"The prince is a warrior, Iriador."

Legolas frowned. "Iriador? Are you Rychell's wife?"

She blushed. "Yes."

"Why have I never seen you before?"

Iriador smiled. "I have only recently started to work in the palace, and since I am a healer, our paths have never crossed."

Legolas nodded. "Now please tell me what he is doing to heal her."

Solwen shrugged. "Nothing, my lord."

The prince glared at him. "Nothing? What kind of a healer are you?"

Iriador glided forward and switched the cloth on Gilrael's face. "He's an expert on identifying the problems, but he's not exactly good at fixing them. That hedgehog, for instance…. anyways, that's what I'm for."

Legolas shook his head. A healer who couldn't heal? It was disturbing.

"Well? What are _you_ doing then?"

Iriador sighed. "I've tried everything I could think of, but as you can see, it's not working. I wouldn't be surprised if we had to take her to Imladris. The healers there, especially Lord Elrond, are phenomenal."

She straightened from bending over Gilrael as Legolas exclaimed, "There is _no_ way we are transporting her all the way to Imladris!"

Iriador nodded sadly. "I am at a loss."

Legolas pursed his lips. "A few times on the ride here, she tried to tell me something about a book. I think she knows how to heal herself."

The healers didn't look convinced, especially Solwen. "A warrior, who knows how to heal? Preposterous!"

Iriador shushed him. "She is no ordinary warrior. What do you make of the book, my lord?"

Legolas gazed at Gilrael. "I do not know…"

The unconscious elleth was clearly not at ease. She writhed and breathed heavily, her face and arms flushed red, and sweating. _Elves_ _do not_ _sweat_!

It hurt Legolas so much to see her like that, on the brink of death. But what could he, a young warrior, do?

…

In Gilrael's mind, she was back in Barad Dur, in Sauron's throne room. There was the towering, black throne, made of swirling shadows, but the Dark Lord was not on it. He was pacing in front of it, yelling at Roquen, who had his head bowed.

"How _dare_ you send those spiders after her! You _idiot_! What were you _thinking_?"

"My lord, Gilrael is not-"

"To _kill_ her? I should have _you_ killed! No, death is too good for you. I should-"

"My lord! Please, you have to listen to me!"

Sauron glowered at the ellon. "I _have_ to?!"

Roquen paled, his body shaking. "N-no, my lord. But I would like to-"

"What you would like to do, _Roquen_ , is to shut up and don't even _think_ about harming Gilrael in any form."

The ellon nodded, but flinched when Sauron thundered, "Understood?!"

"Yes, my lord," Roquen answered quickly.

Sauron swept his black cloak and marched up the steps to his throne, sitting heavily while unsheathing his long, gleaming sword.

"I am, of course, aware Gilrael may not be simply pretending to be on the elves' side. She may have, due to that accursed prince, actually turned, and disobeyed me."

Roquen nodded. "That was what I-"

"Did not I tell you to shut up?"

The ellon swallowed. "Y-yes…"

"Then _shut up_!" The Dark Lord gave his sword a fierce twirl, and Roquen winced.

"Do you fear me, _Roquen_?"

"Y-yes."

"Not nearly enough!" Sauron roared. "The fear you have for me is but a glimpse into the fear Gilrael has for me. That is why she would never _dare_ to cross my orders, like _you_ have just done. Until you manage to get to her level, you will _never_ be as loyal a servant as she is!"

Roquen bent his head in submission, but inside, he doubted. He knew Gilrael, and he knew that she had made up her mind about which side she was on. Sauron, for once, was wrong.

"Now go do something productive, like cleaning out the towers of Minas Morgul! I can't stand the filth!"

Roquen bowed, then hurried out of the throne room.

Then, Gilrael's vision changed. Whereas before, she was merely an invisible observer, she became as if she was physically in Mordor, in her old bedroom.

It was dark, with black curtains over one tall window that opened onto a balcony that wrapped around the tower. Often, she used to gaze westward, towards Gondor, and the sunlit world beyond.

But in her vision, she was in the room, standing shakily on the blood red carpet. Sauron was there, no longer in his formal, menacing cloak, but dressed in a simple tunic and breeches, all black. He held Gilrael close to him, supporting her, and preventing her from falling. But uncomfortably close.

"Oh, Gilrael! If only Roquen wasn't such a fool, you wouldn't be going through this needless pain!"

For a moment, Gilrael thought he was serious, then realized he said _needless_ pain. He wouldn't care if it was a pain he thought necessary.

"I know I promised not to interfere with you until our plans start going underway, but I could not resist when that oaf injured you so. More than injured. I thought you would appreciate my comfort. Do you, my dear?"

Gilrael only coughed out something in reply.

Sauron stroked her hair, and she would have punched him had she not been so weak, and so afraid. Why was she afraid? She shouldn't be! She should be a courageous warrior, boldly rejecting the Dark Lord…but his centuries of training her with torture to obey him could not be so easily undone.

"My poor, poor darling! So weak, but still so beautiful. And I sense such a strong spirit still! Maybe I made a mistake in sending you into the enemy's lair. I will miss you."

His silky words, drenched in lies made Gilrael want to vomit, but she dared not. Actually, she wanted to collapse and fall asleep, and her head rolled back.

"Quiet, hmm? Oh, you are tired. A pity. I wanted to spend more time with you in my embrace, one last time before we are parted."

He brushed her cheek, then bent down to kiss her, but the second his lips landed on her forehead, Gilrael gasped. It was as if fiery coals had been placed upon her skin, and she gathered enough energy to try to move away from him.

But Sauron was too strong. He held her close to him, but made sure he did not touch her skin. "Oh, dear, I am hurting you." He did not sound sincere.

Gilrael managed to ask, "T-the venom. C-could you…" She could not continue, but Sauron understood.

"Heal it? I wish I could, darling, but you know giant spider venom is…disastrous to heal over long distances."

Gilrael suddenly cried out, "Stop!" She meant to tell him stop calling her endearing names like darling, but he took it differently.

"Talking? Of course. Morgoth always told me I had a persuasive tongue, but one that spoke too long. Very well. I will be quiet."

Gilrael had hoped Sauron would let her go, but he held on tightly, stroking her hair which took no pain.

The elleth groaned, but the Dark Lord thought it was because of her wounds when it was really because she did not know how much longer she could fight to live. Really, it would be so much easier to just give up her spirit and drift into the halls of Manwe…

…

Legolas' eyebrows were knit with worry, when Gilrael suddenly flinched and cried out.

Solwen had left, and Iriador was mixing something in a bowl. "What did she say?"

Legolas pursed his lips. "I could barely make it out, but it sounded like 'stop'."

Iriador frowned. "That…does not make an ounce of sense."

The prince threw up his hands. "Then what are we supposed to do? Sit here and watch her die?"

Iriador slowly dipped a towel into the bowl as she murmured, "The hands of the king are the hands of a healer."

Legolas crossed his arms. "I do not think that was meant for my father, especially since he has no experience in healing whatsoever."

Iriador crossed the room and draped the towel over Gilrael's forehead, where a red burn had appeared. "You would be surprised, my lord. But shouldn't you ask him, considering the circumstances? It wouldn't do any harm."

Legolas glared at her. "I do not want to-"

"Pardon my interrupting you, but will Gilrael really be healed if you stand here worrying? I think not."

The prince scowled. "Fine. I will speak to my father. But the moment she stirs…"

Iriador nodded. "I will send a swift messenger. Firlowen, most likely."

Who was, as it turned out, waiting outside the door. Legolas raised an eyebrow.

"Do you have any messages to deliver?"

Firlowen blushed. "N-no, but I was wondering how the elleth was faring. I heard she was…Lady Gilrael?"

Legolas nodded. "Her predicament is much the same. Now, can you tell me where my father is?"

Firlowen shrugged. "I saw him go to Tauriel's room and -" The prince was gone.

But, unfortunately, the king was not in Tauriel's room, and neither was Tauriel.

"What in Arda…" Legolas murmured as he caught sight of a note on the bed. It read:

 _ **If anyone is looking for me, I am in General Arkanil's room.**_

 _ **Tauriel**_

So Legolas tried the general's room, but just as he arrived, the king strode out, and froze when he saw his son.

"Legolas…"

The prince swallowed, shoving down his dislike for his father for Gilrael's sake.

"Ada, I need to ask you something."

Thranduil looked him up and down quickly, much relieved when he saw Legolas was not badly injured.

"Yes?"

Legolas took a deep breath. "Gilrael…she is not doing any better. I was wondering…if you knew of a way to heal her."

He glanced at his father, who stared at him with a masked face. Now he understood how people felt when he did that to them.

"Ada?"

"Have you tried touching her?"

Legolas flushed. "Um-"

Thranduil shook his head. "That came out wrong. Have you…laid a hand on her? Physically?"

Legolas peered at him. That may have been worse, but he understood.

"No. I did not want to hurt any of her wounds."

Thranduil tilted his head back. "Well, try that. Hurting her might be a good thing. You know, to get her out of her…unconsciousness."

Why was talking to his own son so awkward? It wasn't like this when Serilna was with them.

Legolas nodded stiffly. "I…will try."

"Also, music will help, regardless. Or singing."

Legolas brightened. "Singing? I will certainly do that." His mother had sung to him very frequently before she disappeared, and it was one way to connect with her, so to speak.

He departed quickly, not noticing the king lean against a column with tears in his eyes. "So much like her…so similar."

…

Back in Gilrael's room, Firlowen had not left his post.

"Nor do I intend to," he informed Legolas, who swept into the room with a sigh.

Iriador had left, with a note telling him that she had gone to give him some privacy. Maybe she had known what Thranduil would advise him… Either way, Legolas was grateful.

Gilrael was much calmer, laying still with her arms by her side. Legolas took one of them into his hands as he sat on her bed, gazing into her fair-skinned face. He murmured a few words of poems first, but gradually, it became a waterfall of notes.

His voice rung brightly through the air, about the elves of old, various conquests, and more. Legolas went through so many songs, he could not keep track.

Gilrael stirred, but still, she had not awakened. Legolas was near despair. How long would he keep singing, waiting, hoping? Eventually he would run out of songs. But, Legolas determined, if necessary, he would start over and sing the ones he had already sung. He would do anything to bring Gilrael out of the pain and darkness she was clearly in.


	25. Chapter 25: Nura Dúaith

A few hours passed before Legolas had his second visitor (Firlowen came in at certain intervals). Tauriel was very distressed, and wanted to see how Gilrael was doing.

Legolas sighed sadly. "Not much better, I'm afraid. The singing helped, but I'm not sure it will heal her entirely."

Tauriel gazed at the still-unconscious elleth, then suddenly asked, "Can you sing the tale of Luthien and Beren?"

Legolas blinked. "What?"

The elfling peered at him. "Don't you know it? Naneth used to sing me that, before she…"

Legolas nodded. "I know it. Tis a lovely song, but I'm not sure I can manage it, with Gilrael –"

Tauriel giggled. "Do you love her? Like Beren loved Luthien?"

Legolas flushed to the points of his ears, and Tauriel laughed more. "Come! Sing it!"

Suddenly, Gilrael stirred, and the elfling stopped laughing. The elleth stilled.

Legolas frowned. "I…think laughter helps. Do it again!"

Tauriel crossed her arms. "I can't just laugh on command!"

Legolas heaved a sigh. "Will singing the tale of Luthien Tinuviel make you laugh?"

She gave a sly grin. "Maybe."

With that, the prince began the song, and Tauriel promptly burst into giggles.

Legolas faltered, and stopped. "Am I that bad?"

The elfling leaned against the wall, laughing. "Oh, this is hilarious! You, a hardened warrior, singing so beautifully, like an angel!" And she was off.

Legolas rolled his eyes, but caught his breath when he saw Gilrael stir again.

She groaned, and mumbled something. Legolas leaned forward eagerly, holding her hand while Tauriel quieted and watched. But again, Gilrael stilled.

The next time the elfling laughed (which Legolas found easy to do), Gilrael did not move a single centimeter, though her breathing stayed normal.

Tauriel placed her elbows on the bed with her chin in her hands, and announced, "I think a kiss will heal her."

Legolas shrugged. "Kiss her if you want to."

The elfling threw her head back and laughed, like ringing bells. "Oh, Eru, you are _so_ funny! _I'm_ not kissing her! You are!"

The prince reddened. "Why?"

Tauriel clapped her hands. "Have you never read the tales? True love's kiss will heal the sick princess!"

Legolas crossed his arms. "Two things. First, I'm not her true love. Second, she's not a princess!"

"If she marries you she is."

Legolas glared at her. "Why would you think she loves me? She doesn't remember me! She thinks I'm just a convenient rescuer, nothing more! And why am I speaking to you of this? You're just, just…"

But he could say no more, for Tauriel stared at him with teary emerald eyes. "I'm just an elfling," she miserably announced.

Standing, she sniffled. "I'm sorry, Legolas. But I'm just trying to help. Why wouldn't she love you? You saved her life. You are skilled and talented. You are handsome and kind. You clearly care for her. What more could an elleth want?"

A stunned Legolas watched the elfling walk out.

He took a deep breath. Under usual circumstances, he would climb his favorite tree and sob into the branches, or stare out into the woods. But he couldn't leave Gilrael.

Legolas gazed at her beautiful face. Did he love her? He had never truly loved anyone before, except Naneth. But with Gilrael…he could imagine spending eternity with her, on the shores of Valinor with no worry, no pain. Did she feel the same?

Either way, Legolas couldn't kiss her. Not that he didn't want to, particularly, but it was for married couples. A special thing. And he didn't even know if it would work.

The Sinda stroked her hand, pale and still by her side. Like death. An overwhelming feeling that she would die washed over him, an instinct so dependable he relied on nothing else.

Swallowing, Legolas felt tears grow, but he blinked them back. His hands went to her face, which he cupped in them. He leaned his head in, so it was touching her forehead, but he didn't kiss her. At least not on the lips.

"Oh, Gilrael! I couldn't bear it if you died! Please, awake. Open your eyes, your beautiful, golden and brown eyes, so I can see you looking at me one last time…my…love."

Legolas gently kissed her forehead, staring at her closed eyes. But suddenly, she flinched, and groaned. "S-Sauron…stop."

The prince frowned, and Gilrael's eyes fluttered open. She blinked. "You are…right in front of my face."

Legolas laughed. He couldn't help it. He collapsed on top of her, hugging her tightly, exclaiming for joy.

"Gilrael! You live!"

When he finally drew back, sitting with his legs on the bed with a bright smile on his face, she wasn't happy. At least, she didn't look it.

A stunned expression was on her face. "You mean…you kissed me. _You_ kissed my forehead."

Legolas pursed his lips. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"Don't apologize!" Gilrael gasped, taking in quick, short breaths. "I…can hardly believe it! You really _do_ care for me!"

The prince frowned. "Of course I do."

She looked up at him. "No one has ever cared for me, at least in my memory."

"What about your parents? Or your mother? You remembered her."

Gilrael shook her head. "I know _of_ them. And I know her name. But I don't really _know_ them."

Legolas glanced down. "What about me?"

She reached up, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "I remember you, Wenyalasse."

Legolas widened his eyes. "Your…made-up name for me. 'Greenleaf.' Literally."

Gilrael smiled. "Suits you. Especially if you had green hair."

His eyes danced. "You remember me! You're not so lost after all!"

The elleth dropped her hand, and rubbed her shoulder. "Maybe not lost, but still recently freed from captivity. I have much to learn, and much to heal and fix. Many lands have I traveled, leaving destruction and turmoil in my wake. Glurdag they hate. Gilrael, I hope they will come to know. Legolas, it has been so long!"

She reached up, and Legolas bent down to hug her. He was overjoyed for her consciousness, and hoped with time she would be fully healthy. He knew she would.

Suddenly, Firlowen burst into the room, and exclaimed, out of all things, "This is _so_ cute! Should I get the palace painter to sketch the pose?"

Legolas leapt up, and yelled, "That's where Elladan and Elrohir were last time! With you!"

Gilrael turned to the side, and smiled.

The messenger widened his eyes. "Gilrael! You live!"

The elleth gasped. "No, I don't! Oh, Legolas, I forgot! Come here!"

The prince was by her side in a second, as she panted, "The poison…it's still working. I woke because of the contact on my face, and because Sauron apparently had other things to do, but you must listen to me or I will choose to fade than endure the pain and eventual death."

Gilrael took a deep breath as Legolas scanned her face worriedly. "Yes? You know how to heal yourself?"

Firlowen sprinted out of the room. "I'll get Iriador and Solwen if he's done with Galion's daughter."

Gilrael nodded. "Good. Legolas, remember my Morgul blade your father showed us?"

"The one he dropped?"

She nodded again. "Get that."

"Why?"

"JUST DO IT!"

Legolas stood quickly. "Right! I'll see if it hasn't been destroyed yet."

"Unlikely," he muttered as he rushed through the halls.

…

Gilrael's only emotions were anger and fear. Fear of Sauron, and anger towards everyone else. But that was before she had stumbled upon Legolas, or rather, he had found her.

Gilrael had, of course, expected to meet with him when she first set out into the Greenwood, but she hadn't expected memories of him to come flooding back. And with Legolas, others connected to him.

A tall, golden haired ellon. A Balrog-slayer. What had Etrielle said? _Glorfindel won't be happy to hear that._ Glorfindel. Gilrael tried to remember more, but she could only capture his hair. And smile. She had admired him.

Then there was an elfling, a young one about Tauriel's age. She was beautiful, even as a young elleth, and Gilrael recalled playing with her. Protecting her from…her brothers.

Twins. Legolas had shouted… _Elladan and Elrohir._ They liked to play pranks. Gilrael was sure of that.

But she could remember nothing more, other than all of those elves lived in a place called Imladris. _Streams._

Gilrael clenched her fists. Sauron took those golden memories away from her, and pretended to be her protector. There were no words to describe her hatred.

Legolas suddenly came running in, loud as a dwarf. "I fear it is no more! My father has done away with it. He deems it as a black claw, clenching around his heart. He will not allow it."

Gilrael sighed. Now she remembered that the Sinda tended to be quite dramatic when he was distressed.

"I thought as much. But in the closet, underneath the rug, is another Morgul blade. Not as powerful, but it'll work."

Legolas promptly returned with the knife, holding it carefully by the hilt. "You carry weapons like these?"

Gilrael exhaled slowly as she took it from him. "Worse weapons, but yes."

Legolas sat on the bed next to her. "What are you going to do with it?"

The elleth rolled up her sleeve just as Firlowen and Iriador rushed in and heard her say, "I am going to stab myself."

Iriador gasped. "You're not serious!"

Firlowen remarked, "She looks serious."

Gilrael snapped, "I _am_ serious!"

Legolas frowned. "You do know that a Morgul blade is-"

"Powerful, Legolas. Very powerful."

The prince stared at her. "Yes, in a bad way."

Gilrael took a deep breath. This was the only solution she could think of, but she knew it was risky. Dangerous. Deadly if she didn't do it right.

"Legolas, I need you to sing."

"Sing? Is it…magical?"

Gilrael glared at him. "No! It just…soothes me. It's comforting."

Firlowen grinned, but Iriador knit her eyebrows. "There must be another way, dear."

Gilrael ignored her, and without another word, plunged the knife into her forearm.

She screamed, a chilling shriek that pierced the heart of every elf in the palace.

…

Firlowen swallowed as he accepted a terrified Iriador into his arms, who was crying for Rychell.

Legolas, the most experienced warrior, merely winced, and closed his eyes as another shriek sounded, and Gilrael thrashed and swore.

At least she was still conscious enough to hurl every insult she knew to both Roquen and Sauron. The latter in particular.

But it did not last. When Iriador ran off to find her husband as Firlowen went to tell the king, Legolas' spirits plummeted as Gilrael stilled, no longer visibly breathing. The prince fell on top of her, sobbing. She was dead, and he was quickly fading.

…

Gilrael didn't know where she was. It was a large hall, detailed in its decoration, with a shimmering light of dark blue. A very tall being stood in front of her, long hair glistening silver, with grand robes embroidered with stars.

"Welcome to the Halls of Mandos."

The elleth gasped, and took a step back. "M-my lord Mandos?"

The Valar nodded slightly, and Gilrael widened her eyes in despair. "Am I dead?"

Mandos' sapphire eyes glimmered. "Not quite. Someone with great power is holding thy spirit to Ea, and pleaded with Manwe to send thee here, to my halls, rather than the pits of Morgoth, where thou would have gone otherwise. Curiously, Manwe accepted that request almost immediately, and here thee stands."

Gilrael frowned. "I am not dead but I am in the Halls of Mandos? How can this be?"

The Valar nodded. "Strange, indeed. To be honest, I have no idea what to do with thee, unless thee would like to go to Valinor?"

Gilrael curtsied, finding herself dressed in a glowing gown of golden. "I must deny that offer, my lord. I am needed in Arda."

Mandos sighed. "I thought as much. What Manwe should have done was deal with thee himself, but…"

The Valar's eyes suddenly shone with realization. "Ah, I see know. Tis a very unusual, improper command, but it is the Lord Manwe. I will do as he wishes."

Gilrael was afraid. "W-what is it?"

Mandos stared down at her. "Thou art right. Thy knowledge is needed in Arda, and thy experience. Sauron will do more damage if he knows thou art here. Just remember this, fair maiden."

Gilrael frowned. "Yes?"

The Valar leveled his eyes at her. "There is greater evil than Morgoth himself, and all his evil combined. Beware Nura Dúaith."

A great wind swept the halls, and Gilrael's hair billowed behind her. The Valar raised a hand in farewell, and the elleth found herself falling, down, down, into Nura Dúaith. Deep Darkness.


	26. Chapter 26: The Prophecy

Images swirled around her. A foreboding vision of the future.

She saw towns lit ablaze, wailing people running away. A black force sweeping over the lands with a steady pound. A palace, dark with intense evil, and two thrones, flames burning above. And one resounding cry, the cry of every being in Middle Earth, dead or alive.

"Hail, Lord Sauron, king of all the lands of Arda, wielder of the One Ring! Hail, Lady Ilweranael, his queen, bearer of the Fourth Ring!"

Something sharp pierced her heart, for the Lady Ilweranael was an Elf, who looked exactly like Gilrael.

"No! That is not me!"

Darkness flew into her face, and Gilrael wondered if there was a bottom, and if it did exist, how it would feel to land on it at the speed she was going. Her limbs flailed as she tried to grasp onto the world of the living and not risk the landing, but all her efforts were of no use, and she kept falling down the endless chasm.

But suddenly, a voice sounded in the deep, an evil, creeping male voice that Gilrael realized, with an intense shudder, was not Sauron.

"So, my brother has given you a second chance, Gilrael. Very kind of him."

"Who are you?" Gilrael cried.

"You do not know?" He chuckled. "I would give you a riddle to solve, but my time with you is short. I am Melkor."

Gilrael gasped in horror and fear. "Morgoth?"

He sighed. "Elves are so stubborn. Feanor comes up with a catchy name, and it sticks. But have you ever considered that I may not like that name? Hmm?"

Gilrael's eyes darted, attempting to find the source of the voice as she demanded, "What is this place? What are you doing with me?"

Morgoth groaned. "We are in the Void, the dullest, most boring place in the universe, where I was cast into after the Valar so-called defeated me."

"So you plot to take over the world because you're bored."

"Well, that's one reason, yes."

"Why am I here?"

Morgoth breathed in deeply, as if savoring her presence. "You are a valuable part of my plan, Gilrael. You and others, but you the most. You have powerful gifts, and I intend to make use of them to free me from this horridly boring prison and emerge ruler of all."

Gilrael frowned. "Why would I do _your_ bidding? I would never obey you!"

"If you succeed, you will rule by my side as queen. Think of the power, glory, and fame! None will dare to cross us!"

Gilrael was horrified. " _Your_ queen? You want a mere elleth as your bride?"

"You are no mere elleth, Gilrael!" Morgoth insisted. "Such a shame you weren't born a Valar, or at least a Maia, but among the Eldar, you are greatest."

"Lies!" Gilrael hissed.

"Well, think about it."

"I have made up my mind, and a thousand years will not change it!"

"Oh, come now," Morgoth said. "Am I that loathsome?"

Gilrael huffed. "Actually, yes, destroyer of the divine Trees, thief of the Silmarils."

Morgoth sighed. "Fine, think what you will. But if you obey me, you will have all your heart desires, if it is not to be my queen and ruler over all the nations."

She froze. "Yes, I know what your desires are, Gilrael. You yearn for the golden memories of your childhood. You wish for the memory of the pain Sauron has inflicted upon you to cease to exist. You crave for the peoples of Middle Earth, whether Man, Dwarf, or Elf, to forgive your crimes, and see you as your true, noble self. And, perhaps above all, you want Legolas to see-"

Gilrael jolted above those dreams at the mention of the ellon's name. She shouted, "I will _never_ obey you, Morgoth, corrupter of all! Get out of my mind, and never return!"

But the wiles of the master deceiver were stronger than she knew. As she faded out of the Nura Dúaith, Morgoth whispered through the Void.

"Find the One Ring. If you refuse, all your loved ones will die, starting with the Sinda. Find the Ring of Power…"

* * *

Legolas threw knife after knife into the targets, no longer crying because he had no more tears to spend. But it didn't mean he wasn't angry.

"Why, Gilrael? Why did you die? _Why_?" With his next hurl, the beat-up target split in two.

The Sinda let out a yell, and sank to his knees, his shoulders heaving. Tauriel, out of all people, had been the one to convince him to live, to not give up his spirit and fade. She had told him Gilrael would have wanted him to continue to help the cause of Middle Earth, and fading would not help anything.

Oh, but how hard it was!

Legolas drooped onto a tree his hands clenched. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to move on? How could he?

Suddenly, a hand touched his shoulder. "Do not give up, Legolas of the Woodland Realm."

The prince glanced up, and widened his eyes when he found himself in a wood with golden leaves, sunlight warming his face, and the Lady of Lorien gazing at him with a knowing look.

"Your grief is great, but you must channel it into strength."

"Lady Galadriel, I-"

"Hush, Legolas. You find it unbearable now, but if you do not steady your will, worse things will come to pass."

The Lady suddenly straightened, her white gown shimmering in the light. She smiled. "I do believe the Valar are with you."

The sight gradually faded, and Legolas stood on shaky legs. In a trance, he picked up his knives and sheathed them, but then, he had no idea what to do.

Until Firlowen sprinted up to him, and breathlessly told him, "Gilrael. S-She may be alive!"

The elleth's room was quite crowded. There were Solwen, Iriador, with her husband Rychell, Falluen, Tauriel, Etrielle, and the king, all watching and waiting anxiously.

They parted the way for the incoming prince, who rushed to the side of the bed, fell to his knees, and took Gilrael's hand into his.

It was warm.

"Gilrael!"

The elleth started at his touch, and her eyes flew open at his voice. "I'm…alive."

Everyone burst into clapping and cheers, except the two healers, who yelled for quiet.

"For shame!" Iriador scolded. "The Lady just returned from the dead!"

Gilrael breathed deeply. "Dead? I was really dead?"

Legolas had tears of joy in his eyes, and he swallowed as he stroked her hair. "Yes, Gilrael. Your skin was ghostly pale, and you did not breathe. I do not know how this is, but thank the Valar!"

The others took up the cry, but Thranduil stepped forward. His face was stern, as usual. "Indeed, how is this possible?"

The elves quieted, and Legolas helped Gilrael sit up, and lean back against the pillows. He then sat next to her, refusing to let go of her hand as Tauriel jumped onto the lower end of the bed and Falluen stood next to it.

Gilrael took a deep breath. "I will tell you what happened, but everyone in this room must swear to keep it secret."

Solwen promptly walked out the door, as Iriador explained, "He can't keep secrets. And though Rychell and I can, it's none of our business. Come, Rychell. Don't give me that look."

After the healer and her husband left, one by one, each Elf took an oath not to breathe a word of what Gilrael was about to tell them unless she gave her permission.

Last of all was Tauriel, of whom Gilrael asked, "Are you sure you can stay quiet? Can you keep a secret?"

The elfling nodded solemnly. "I did not break even under Roquen, under fear of being hurt. I won't spill a single word. I swear."

Gilrael smiled, then told the elves of visiting the Halls of Mandos, and Manwe's orders. But she omitted the part about Nura Dúaith, and her audience with Morgoth.

Etrielle frowned. "Someone with great power held your spirit back? Who?"

Thranduil leveled his gaze at his son. "Legolas, apparently."

Falluen clamped his hand onto the prince's shoulder. "Really? Mellon's got power?"

Tauriel laid down, propping herself up on her elbows. "Of course he does. Legolas is the most powerful ellon I know."

Firlowen smiled. "And how many ellons do you know?"

"Lots."

The elves laughed, and even Gilrael smiled, but Legolas didn't think it was funny. "I have power? How? I'm only good with archery, nothing else."

He shot a look to his father, and knew he had struck a nerve. In an angry scolding, the king had once yelled, "You are no good, Legolas! You interfere with everything, and never listen to orders! Maybe you should stay in the archery fields forever, because that is the only thing you're good at! Nothing else."

Thranduil stepped forward with tears in his eyes. "Legolas, I-" But Etrielle laid a hand on his arm, and looked at him pointedly.

"Defending yourself now will only draw him away from you. Wait."

Thranduil gave one final look to Legolas, and nodded to Gilrael. "I am very much relieved you are back with us, my dear."

Etrielle scurried off, but the king glanced at Falluen. "Did you put that _thing_ on my throne?"

The ellon flushed, and Thranduil glared at him. "If Elladan and Elrohir-"

"They didn't teach me! _That_ one," he added. "Firlowen-"

Suddenly, the messenger leapt to his feet. "Manwe's breath, I have so many messages to deliver! Got to run!" He took off, and Thranduil grabbed Falluen's collar.

"Come with me, young man, and when Firlowen is done, I will give you both a punishment."

He marched out, dragging Falluen after him.

Tauriel swallowed. "The king seems…nice."

Legolas sighed. "This is one of his good days. Gilrael's alive, nobody is too injured, and Falluen played a silly prank with the help of Firlowen. Normal."

Gilrael asked, "Where is Falluen from?"

"His father was from Eryn Lasgalen, but he got killed, and his mother lives in Imladris, but travels a lot to Lorien. So Falluen stays here for a few months, sometimes a year, and bothers my father, then goes to Imladris and bothers Lord Elrond, and goes to Lorien and Lady Galadriel thinks he's a darling." Legolas shrugged. "But us princes get along nicely with him."

Gilrael smiled, and Tauriel laughed. "So he's well-traveled for an elf."

Legolas nodded. "Very. Besides Gilrael, he's the most traveled elf I know."

Tauriel gasped. "Oh yes! Where have you been?

"Most places you can name, and many you cannot." Gilrael looked at Legolas. "But my visits to the North have been quite rare, which is why I would like to take the guise of a Ranger."

"That's great!" Tauriel exclaimed while Legolas stared at her.

"Really. You do know that Roquen is looking for you, right? And traveling alone will make you vulnerable? You will be quite obvious, especially since you are an elleth."

Gilrael crossed her arms, but winced under the pain it produced. "Roquen will never expect me to disguise myself as a Ranger. You do not know me, Legolas. I would never do something like that, travel that roughly."

She shrugged. "But I have done it before, and Roquen does not know that. I am better at hiding my identity than you think. I will be neither Gilrael nor Glurdag. I will be Gilith."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "I see a theme here. Why do you like 'g' so much?"

Tauriel confidently announced, "Because she's great, and she loves green things. Especially green leaves."

Both older elves glared at her, but just then, something floated onto the ground from the window.

Tauriel jumped off the bed and picked it up as Legolas frowned and asked, "What is it?"

The elfling studied it. "A letter, quite nasty, written in…"

"Black Speech. Here, let me read it," Gilrael asked.

Legolas stood. "Not yet. Shh."

He unfastened a throwing knife, and crept to the window. The deliverer had to be out there, and if the note was in Black Speech…

Legolas peered through the glass. If he broke it, the person was sure to hear it and run away. So he scanned the woods outside the window, looking for the shape of an orc.

He didn't find it, but instead saw the distinct figure of an elf. An elf because no man could be disguised against the bushes that well, or tread the earth with such stealth. The elf was remarkably thin, and dressed completely in black.

But suddenly, the elf directed his gaze towards Legolas. The prince gasped and took a step back in surprise, because the elf's eyes were a startling, icy blue, almost identical to his.

The elf bowed his head to the Sinda, and stretched out his hand in a symbol of peace and a warm farewell. Then the elf disappeared into the shadows.

"What is it?" Gilrael asked. "What did you see?"

Legolas swallowed. "It seems I saw a shadow of…me. He looked almost exactly like me."

He told the elleths exactly what he saw, and Gilrael shook her head. "I do not know him. Let us read the letter and see if we can find out."

She glanced at the page and raised an eyebrow.

"Read it aloud!" Tauriel urged her.

Gilrael pursed her lips, but complied.

" 'Tauriel,

When Esgaroth's prophecy is fulfilled, find the hidden notes leading from the forsaken cave to Gundabad's outlook. I love you, I always have, and please forgive me, though I don't deserve it.

You must heed this, to save the lives of many!

A. T. B.' "

Tauriel was stunned. "W-who is A.T.B?"

Gilrael flipped the paper. "Whoever it is, he wrote this in a hurry. And he clearly traveled all the way here from Mordor, just to deliver it, and run off. Probably back to Mordor."

Legolas slowly settled back onto the bed. "So the elf I saw had the initials 'A.T.B'."

Gilrael tilted her head. "That part is very strange. Evidently he didn't want his name to be known by any who might happen upon his letter, but he thought we would know. Tauriel, do you have any ideas?"

The elfling shook her head quickly. In Legolas' opinion, too quickly.

"Nope, none at all. The only thing I can think of is, 'Awesome Turkey Breakfast.' May I leave to eat something?"

Gilrael and Legolas exchanged glances. Why did Tauriel want to leave so quickly?

"And I suppose you would like to keep the letter?"

Tauriel nodded. "If I could, yes."

Gilrael handed it to her. "Go."

After the elfling left, Legolas asked, "Why did you give it to her?"

"Why not? We got all we can out of the letter, and I memorized it."

Legolas smiled. Gilrael always had a good memory for words and places.

"One thing I'm worried about though, Legolas, is if the letter is a trap. Gundabad's outlook, it said. That's a very vulnerable place, so high up on the cliff, with a perfect view of the evil fortress."

Legolas nodded. "But he said he loved Tauriel, and to forgive him."

Gilrael sighed. "That's why it's so confusing. And Esgaroth's prophecy is also strange."

"What is it?"

Gilrael closed her eyes, and summoned the ancient passage from her mind.

" _The King beneath the mountains,_  
 _The King of carven stone,_  
 _The lord of silver fountains_  
 _Shall come into his own!_  
 _His crown shall be upholden,_  
 _His harp shall be restrung,_  
 _His halls shall echo golden_  
 _To songs of yore re-sung._  
 _The woods shall wave on mountains_  
 _And grass beneath the sun;_  
 _His wealth shall flow in fountains_  
 _And the rivers golden run._  
 _The streams shall run in gladness,_  
 _The lakes shall shine and burn,_  
 _And sorrow fail and sadness_  
 _At the Mountain-king's return!_ _"_

Legolas frowned. "And who is this…king beneath the mountain who will, um, return?"

Gilrael shook her head. "I don't know. The only mountain associated with Esgaroth is, of course, Erebor, the Lonely Mountain, but I don't see the significance of it."

Legolas asked, "What do you know about it?"

Gilrael shrugged. "Some dwarves mine in it. A small colony of little importance. I don't understand the 'king' part."

"Are you sure that's the prophecy?"

"It seems more like a song, but yes, I'm sure that's what the letter meant."

Legolas sighed. "So you mean to become a Ranger to find out more information."

"And help the peoples of Middle Earth without being known, yes. Don't give me that look, Legolas. I will convince Thranduil and I will set out once I am fully recovered."

* * *

Tauriel breathed heavily, the door to her room locked. She clutched the letter to her chest, and caught her breath.

Slowly, she peeled herself from the wall, and smoothed the paper on a desk.

"I love you, I always have," she murmured.

With shaking fingers, Tauriel unclasped the necklace hidden under her tunic. It was silver, with a tear drop shaped pendant in which a single diamond-shaped star was placed. Elegant but small, the diamond could open, like a locket, to reveal two small paintings.

One was a much younger version of her parents, side by side. The other was of a smiling, handsome ellon, with icy blue eyes and neat, reddish brown hair.

Tauriel had found the drawing hidden away in her little cave, and she had stuck it in her necklace in the hopes that one day, she would find out who he was.

That day was the closest clue she had gotten, and Tauriel fingered both the note and the picture nervously.

Was it wrong to hide it from Legolas and Gilrael, though she trusted them both so much? Maybe they could help her decipher the message.

But Tauriel decided against it. They would not understand the pain of her past, the feeling of growing up alone, uncared for. Yes, Gilrael had a terrible life, but her childhood was golden. Legolas' relationship with his father was clearly strained, to say the least, but he, too, had a wonderful youth.

The same could not be said for Tauriel, but she was convinced that if she could find the blue-eyed ellon who had always loved her, she would get answers. Why her parents had abandoned her to the point of depression.

 **A/N: Voila! My first fanfiction is complete! It has been a joy getting all my ideas written down, and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it!**

 **I hate to sound like a comercial, but here goes:**

 **Coming soon!**

 ** _The Stirring,_ Book 2 in _The Redeemed One_ series.**

 **Summary:**

 **"Ever since the attack of Smaug, Gilrael has begun to get dark visions of the enemy's plans, an invitation to join the black force emerging ever so slightly. Meanwhile, Tauriel follows a set of clues, hoping that they will lead her to the mysterious ellon depicted in her necklace. Will the two elleths learn to accept the help of their prince in order to fulfill their goals?"**

 **Well, t** **hank-you so much for reading and for taking the time to review! Both are much appreciated.**

 **Have a wonderful day! :)**

 **Elluviel**


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